Devil Devil Fruits
by Niji Hitomi Kabra
Summary: Doflamingo has a nasty secret, one he thought to keep hidden even from his closest nakama, but when the Marines turn on all Devil Fruit users, he discovers he's not the only one in Impel Down with a reason to fight back. Angst with a happy ending. Preg/Mpreg technically. Dofladile. Zosan. Canon Divergence AU. See notes!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Greetings, minna! This is gonna be a fairly long author's note because I've got a couple of things to explain here before we get started.

1\. This is a canon divergent AU - AKA set in canon but with some marked differences.

2\. Doflamingo in this is based on Silva's headcanons, and is EXTREMELY OOC as compared to canon because he was developed before the Pirate Alliance Saga when we didn't have much of anything to go on for his personality or history. So please check out Piratelorddoflamingo on Tumblr for more info about her specific headcanons.

3\. Crocodile is a transman, but for visualization and plot purposes, this fic will use she/her pronouns for him.

4\. Full warnings because they don't fit in the tiny description: Imprisonment, Torture, Psychological Trauma, Mildly Dubious Consent, Unplanned Pregnancy, Trans Character, Mpreg Technically, Blind Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending

And finally, this is number 1 of 2 fics for the OP Big Bang. It's posted in full over on my AO3 if y'all don't wanna wait for me to update here, but basically what that means is the fic is finished, Beta'd, and ready for posting entirely! I just don't wanna throw the whole fic on here at once because it's a lot of work. 27 chapters worth. *wink* So, sit back and relax, if you've made it this far. Enjoy~!

* * *

"Toying with the government gets you nothing good, Doflamingo. Even if you are related to the Tenryuubito." The guard's voice was cruel, and the slam of the cell door echoed with finality the way the very sentence itself had replayed over and over and over again in the former warlord's mind.

The air was cloying and chilled, cooled by the floor above, and the shouts of other prisoners made a cacophony of noise that served to stir every pirate held captive in the infamous prison. The creak of pipes with barely held-back seawater rumbled ominously under the din, though both failed to cover the sound of sharp footsteps approaching the sprawled form of the former King of Dressrosa. Too light to be male, but too sharp to be any female Don knew, the hands—no, hand—that reached down to grasp his shoulder was hard, calloused as though it had spent a long time performing manual labor. But there was a layer of malleability to it that told of years of soft life too. It was hard to tell the difference.

"C'mon, bird boy, up you get. I've someone who can help." Her voice was similarly hard, and a heavy coat of some kind of fur wrapped about the large blond man's shoulders smelling of arid heat and above all... sand.

OH. Oh god no, not him, not- not like this! He wasn't supposed to know; nobody was EVER supposed to know—

"Don't-don't waste, waste your time on me. Keep your coat- you get cold even easier than I do, you shouldn't."

But he couldn't resist how he buried his nose in the collar of the coat and inhaled deeply. His senses had started ratcheting up since the cuffs went on, but he was still very nearly helpless. And of all things, he didn't want THAT person to see him like this, not this way where his secret could be so easily uncovered.

"You'll be warm in a minute. Can you walk? They haven't fucked you up more than you already are right?" The fingers that had been on his shoulder now gripped his chin and turned his head from side to side, obviously she was inspecting him. "No head wounds that I can see."

The scent and chill of seastone brushed his cheek somewhere near her wrist, and she pulled it back before he could get a decent feel for what it was.

NO! His hand lashed out, sweeping until it found something to grab onto and he did, not knowing or caring what exactly he was clutching.

"I can probably walk. I'll stumble a lot but I can walk. It's been so long, I forgot how weak in the muscles you get after seastone is applied," he breathed quickly. "They knocked me around a little, but didn't fuck me up."

The form in front of him was still, solid as it only ever was under Haki or... seastone, but strong as always. There was a calculated silence. "I see."

There was something in her tone, something confirmed, and she made no move to remove the puppeteer's hand from her shoulder. In fact, she brought her own up to rest on it as she turned her back to him.

"Hold onto me and I'll guide you through the passages. It takes some getting used to, but after a few weeks you barely notice it anymore." That had the resigned and patient tone that Don was used to. She was biding her time for something, a plan of some sort.

"Ah, I'll um… Have to take your word on it," he said with a weak imitation of his usual laughter as he rose onto shaky, wobbly legs and let his eyes close.

It wasn't like they were any use to him anyways.

"Y'know the stupid thing? I didn't even do the thing they arrested me for. I've spent the last month lying low and quiet. So they hauled me in, for once, on charges I'm innocent of."

"They are particularly intrusive. All shichibukai have had their statuses revoked, and you will find multiple people here that you would not have expected. I'm sure you're aware that Magellan is no longer Warden. It has nothing to do with our escape before the War of the Best. There are... well, you'll see."

Her steps told the large man that they had passed through a hidden door, though when it had opened and closed was uncertain, and they were in the bowels of the prison.

"There are two rules you must follow at any cost before we enter the hidden level. One, do not antagonize anyone. I know, odd words to hear from me, but it is important to the success of everything. And two, people who were once your enemies are now your friends, and many who were once your friends are now your enemies. Your name will not save you, and nothing you have done up to this point will ever matter to the people we need to remove. So, don't even think about trying to double cross anyone. Even _them_."

That was frightening- no, that was TERRIFYING.

The status quo had all changed about. Allies and enemies… he didn't know which was which anymore—and he was fucking helpless thanks to the seastone.

He couldn't actually control himself well enough right now to keep that terror out of his voice when he replied softly, "Okay."

She stopped, and the feeling of warm air swirled at the edges of their senses. She turned and drew her hand down the side of his face, wiping away something liquid; blood, sweat, tears? He couldn't tell. Then she spoke, her voice soft, the tenor she only ever had used in the deepest of dark nights when she thought he was sleeping and couldn't hear her. "There is hope, Don. We're still more powerful than them, and we _will_ get out again. If public executions didn't stop people before, rounding us all up and locking us away won't do it either. Just... trust me."

"I do. You don't have to ask for that," he replied honestly, but he was still shaking, and so was his voice. "I'm just... everything went to Hell in a handbasket so fast."

And he didn't want to say it, but even his physical strength was almost useless without his strings to guide him.

The air about her settled, the opposite way it did when she reached out, and were it not for the seastone, the air would have become much, much dryer. She seemed to come to a decision though, and turned back around to lead him through the other door. This time as she did so, there was an exchange, mostly silent but for the subtle shift of space between two people. Then they were past, and it was much warmer. There was the sound of people milling about, several gasped, and a murmur rippled through what sounded like dozens of people.

"Oi! Back to it!" She growled, the voice of a leader snapping over their heads like a whip. "Kid, wh ere's Ivankov? He needs his hands free."

"Ivankov's off with his Okamas," the young male voice replied crankily. "They're 'recharging' him with food and drink and... I don't even wanna know what else. But I'll go get him." There was a sound of a bulky body heaving to its feet, a stutter- a stumble- before the heavy boots clomped away.

Don swallowed thickly. "They got Kid too? I thought he was in the New World already."

"More than Kid." The woman grumbled, her words aching for the comfort of a cigar by the way her tongue rolled in her mouth. She took a deep breath, "Fuck. If Ivankov's off 'recharging' then the only other option is _him_. C'mon."

She kept her hand on the newest member of their troupe, subtly guiding him in the direction she wanted to go. As they walked, her heels click-clacked on the stone floor, and the room grew a little cooler. There were murmurs raised behind them, and she twisted more than once to glare at the naysayers. Mostly there was disbelief, but also no small amount of wailing, a cry of hopelessness that if the great Donquixote Doflamingo could be caught, then what did that mean for the rest of them.

Don's sharp ears caught them all, and he winced a little lower with each comment. All it had taken was one seastone bullet to hit its mark and- it didn't matter he'd dodged hundreds, that he'd wiped out three base's worth of Marines, it didn't _matter_ he'd managed to evade the traitorous bastards for almost six months. All it took was one bullet while he tried to gain air, and he had been done for.

He wished they'd have let him drown.

"Ignore them, they're idiots." She growled under her breath, and stopped in front of what was obviously some sort of alcove from the way the air bent and flowed. "Mugiwara, where's your cook?"

Don flinched at the same time he bolted as upright as he could get. Strawhat was here?!

"Mmmmm..." The sound was drawn out, and definitely the Strawhat captain. "He can't take 'em all the way off..."

"I know, I remember the deal. Just get his hands free. I'd have gone to someone else, but they're busy." Croc snapped.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you cared for him, Mr. Zero."

The woman beside him tensed, so much so that she vibrated slightly under Don's touch, but said nothing as a new set of footsteps approached them both, the scent of tobacco and spices assaulting their senses.

"Think before you speak, Aly-chan. You've another two weeks to go before Ivankov will even think of changing you back." The person, much shorter than Don, seemed entirely too collected for the situation they were in, and his voice was smooth, like old Jazz from a dusty record. "The rules are simple. You are welcome to join our cause provided that you agree once we're out in the world again to fly Luffy's flag above yours. You'll be freed of your shackles, but because of how strong you are, you must retain a single seastone cuff to prevent you from thinking of double crossing us. Food, drink and amenities will be provided as we have them, with preference going to those who've been here longest and are most loyal to Luffy. For now, consider yourself lucky if you get an actual bed to sleep on and a blanket of your own. Other than that we expect everyone to be respectful. We're all in this together, and if any one of us wants to live to see the light of real daylight again, we need to work together."

"I think he gets the point, Mr. Prince." Croc growled again.

But Sanji pressed ahead anyway. "Are we clear?"

"As clear as one can be," Don replied slowly, and he really, really wished he could get both cuffs off. Maybe if he could find a rock shard sturdy enough to use as a lock pick.

It was clear enough to him that Crocodile had already made this deal. That being the case, he saw no other choice available but to respond in kind, and he took a deep breath, wincing when that aggravated his wound.

"...I'll take it."

So he had to start over, from the ground up. Fine. He could do that. If he could answer to and survive a Master when he was just nine, he could do it now. If nothing else, he knew that no worse could ever be done to him than he had already endured.

After this, he didn't think he had the heart to keep being a pirate anyway.

Assuming he even survived.

There was an exchange made silently between the chef and his captain that almost had the sand user stepping in again, but then Sanji exhaled as though he had a cigarette, "Put your hands out in front of you as far apart as you can hold them."

Don did, holding them perfectly straight, the powerful muscles in his arms bulged a bit as he pulled the chain between the cuffs to its maximum length, until it creaked a little. It hurt though, very badly, and it took only seconds for him to start to tremble.

Sanji wasted no effort on actually calling a name for the strike of his heel against the metal, but the sound was off. Even though the chain snapped, shattering up on side all the way into the cuff itself, there was no sound of a shoe hitting the ground afterward. In fact, the man's footsteps were entirely wrong, flapping against the stone like... he was barefoot. Croc didn't give Don a chance to explore it though, she stepped between the Strawhats and the puppetmaster, pulling his hands together to brush the crumbs of seastone off of his right wrist and drop the broken links of chain still trying to hold onto the left cuff to the ground.

"Aly-chan~!" Sanji's voice warbled in a facsimile of his usual over-exuberant affection. "You will join us for dinner won't you?"

On Don's wrist, Croc's hand tightened and her teeth ground together, but she managed to hiss, "Of course..."

"Of course, what? Aly-chan."

"Mr. Prince-san."

"Ah, such a delicate desert flower, if only you were always this way. Until tonight, beautiful Aly-chan~!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** I know this one's a little... okay a LOT experimental, but no reviews? Do y'all not like it?

* * *

Crocodile was shaking with suppressed rage, and she practically hauled Don by his wrists away from the twirling cook.

Don's voice rumbled and hissed with suppressed rage once they were out of earshot of the Strawhats- meaning Don couldn't hear THEM anymore so they surely would not hear him if he spoke quietly, and he was too angry for shouting.

He'd thought there was nothing more that could ever be done to hurt him- right up until a thought occurred as the words 'until tonight' burned their way into his brain asking _what'll happen tonight to make him so fucking excited?_

"Tell me he's not- what I'm afraid he means. Because I may have to break this alliance right now and kill him if he is."

"No. He just wants to fawn over me while I have tits. Fucking Okama-loving, idiot cook. He's as straight as I ah… usually am." Croc led him to another alcove, this one warmer than the last and smaller. "Home sweet hovel."

She brought her partner in and sat him down on what she'd made up for a bed, basically a metal sheet balanced over a couple of hot water pipes and covered in as many blankets as she could steal. It seemed she had been planning for his arrival for a while.

He sighed with relief, and then again when he was sitting down, pulling his beloved in close and nuzzling into her stomach. He could feel hard metal and blankets of all fabrics, already warmed under his behind, and he gave a weak little hum of appreciation. He appreciated the thought, but his heart hurt that Crocodile was even here. He couldn't imagine how the Marines found him- he'd been well hidden, hopping from island to island!

He breathed in deeply, taking in his- slightly changed- scent. "Hate to see you like this again."

"It's my fault. It was wearing off when they caught me. Ivankov was already here, so I either had to risk being discovered out there like this, or let them bring me in. But once they did... I... you know how I get when I'm like this." She pulled him in closer, the absence of her hook obvious now that she was holding him completely. "Then that blasted cook got wind of it. I mouthed off and Ivankov refused to change me back. But you, what about you? I knew they would come for you eventually, but Donny... Donny, why can't you see?"

His hands slid up the small of her back, smoothing over soft skin as he pushed his face further into her. He didn't want to answer that question, he didn't want to tell her- nobody was ever supposed to know, but especially not Croc!

"I meant in prison. I have nothing against this body except that which you hold against it."

She snorted, "Eh. This has been coming for a while."

Her voice was resigned, her guard dropped for the most part now that they were back in her alcove. It appeared to be an unspoken rule regarding the alcoves. Everybody's territory was theirs, and no one would bother anyone when they were within it. At least, that was what her body language and turn of phrase told her long-time lover.

"Humans can only handle something different for so long before they get to the point of not being able to tolerate it any longer. With so many of us and so few of them anymore, it was only a matter of time before they turned on us. But you're avoiding my question. What did they do to you, and why? Did it happen in your arrest?"

"...no." He swallowed thickly and it hurt to try and say this. "...this happened... a long time ago." He swallowed again and it clicked in his throat. "I've... I've always been blind."

"What do you mean you've always been blind?" Crocodile felt a pit opening in her stomach and she frowned, confused, down at her lover. "You've seen me. Looked me in the eye! With your glasses off! I _know_ you've had sight before this. Tell me they've addled your brain too and this all can be fixed with a smack from that blasted Okama king!"

His breath wheezed in his throat and his eyes closed again. "I did have sight once… when I was very young. When I was about ten years old, I was hit in the back of the head- very, very hard. My vision first got blurry, then darkened until I could only see shapes, and shortly after everything went black. And... it never came back. I've been blind since long before I met you. I've been compensating with my fruit all this time."

"You... What... HOW!?" She sat up, scooting back so that she could actually look at him, as though she could see what the trouble was and remove it. "Don, you need to start making sense before I lose my composure any further than I already have. _You know what I'm like when I haven't had nicotine in weeks. Explain yourself!"_

He took off his glasses, sighing softly. This was going to hurt her- this was why he'd never spoken of this. If she hadn't brought it up, if she hadn't asked, he would have continued to pretend, he could have kept up the facade- but he'd promised her once he'd answer what she asked of him. And she asked.

"Everything is made up of strings, when it comes down to it. Muscle fiber and sinew. Chains of atoms, stacked atop one another. When I first lost my sight, I found I could 'see' these little strings making up the world, and I realized quickly I'd rediscovered my sight, essentially. And I have used and abused that ability mercilessly, non-stop, since I first discovered it. I have been, in every way most essential, able to 'see', but it's never been true sight. I can't see colors, or discern visual texture, but I've been able to 'see' well enough. It's why I can dodge so well- I'm aware of the 'string' of atoms that make up a weapon or the energy of an attack and get out of the way in time.

"And when my strings are taken away," he raised the shackle remaining, "I'm just as blind as I've ever been, without my fruit to compensate."

Something in the brunette's chest hurt, twisted and aching, like the blade of a rusty knife, broken off in her breast and inching its way closer and closer to her heart. There was a whimpering sound that for the rest of her natural life she would deny _ever_ came from her. Then she was flurry of activity, gathering him up between her breasts and holding him tight, refusing to acknowledge the sting in her face and the wetness on her cheeks as it dripped onto his. She was vibrating with an emotion that fought to be released, and only sheer willpower kept it at bay. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny voice spoke up that were she in her right body, she wouldn't be acting like this and that giving into it now just because she had different hormones running through her system was weak and pathetic, but somehow hearing that voice only made the feeling worse, causing her to cling tighter, shake more, and give out a slightly louder version of the sound she _didn't_ make.

Don gasped when she first laid hand on him- prepared for violence- but was confused to be instead pulled up to her and gathered in like a precious child. Then his face was wet all of a sudden and for a second he thought _he _must be crying. He did do that, sometimes, when thinking back on those bad times hurt him, but his throat wasn't all that tight and his face didn't feel hot or pinched, so it couldn't be him...

A little whimper of his own came out of his throat before he could stop it as his hands came up to cling to her. "You're- you're not mad at me? For- for not. Not mentioning it?"

He couldn't stop the way it sounded- small, and frightened, like the child he'd been and not the man he was. He couldn't help himself. Being blinded again was like taking him right back there, back to ten years old and terrified because if he couldn't see he wasn't useful and his master did not keep slaves that weren't useful.

"No. No. God no. Don! Why? No, nevermind, it doesn't matter."

She held him, closing her own eyes against the way her body betrayed her. His tone didn't help, small and pathetic. He reminded her of Law, and Bellamy, and the others, all of the little ones she'd witnessed him bring into and out of her life over the course of their relationship. It was a weakness, she knew, but one she could never bring herself to remove. There was just something special about an unjaded mind, and for all that logic told her this was Donquixote Doflamingo, one of the most powerful pirates the world had ever seen, in this moment, with all of that new information... He was hers, and she'd _kill_ anyone who dared try to take him from her, ruthlessly and violently. And the desire to do so boiled over into her muscles, clenching him tighter to her chest, her face buried in his hair, and a gentle rocking motion that she clearly didn't realize she was doing to comfort him.

"I've never told anyone," he whispered against her neck, useless eyes closed. "Kriko would have killed me if he knew."

His throat was tight and his face was wet and there was the heat and the hurt, and he rocked with her as her warm protectiveness began to settle and calm him. He was okay. Croc wouldn't discard him over this. He wasn't going to be dumped by the wayside for being broken. His chest heaved against hers as he fought for breath, trying his best to choke down the sobs that tried to escape, that wrenched at his chest and throat.

She found herself muttering under her breath, death threats, promises of retribution the likes of which she'd never dished out before, and a certain slow-burning anger that was quick to consume the things in her way. She ran her fingers through his hair, down his face, and over his shoulder compulsively. She would destroy those who had brought her beloved low, and she would do it with the meticulous certainty of the creature from which she got her name. Slowly, the tremors of forbidden anguish blended into the shivers of repressed rage, and it may have been Don's imagination, but was the air getting drier _in spite_ of the seastone they both wore?

He raised his head, both to scent the air a bit better and to press his cheek into her hand with a wobbly, lopsided little smile and a hiccup.

"Kriko's dead now, but you can have Vekar," he managed, weakest joke he'd ever offered, but it was all he could manage just now.

The air _felt _drier to him- and his face wasn't wet anymore all of a sudden!

Oh. Wow. That was some powerful rage.

"He will rue the day he laid hand on you." She promised quietly.

Too quietly. It was her thinking tone. The one she used when she was running scenarios in her mind and setting up _exactly_ how she was going to make the chess game play out so that at the end of it, she had all of her pieces and the opponent had none, not even the memory of pieces.

His smile got a bit bigger, a bit stronger, a bit more genuine and his eyes opened. They were dilated in the low light- still a functioning organ, it was simply that the signals in his head were interrupted before they could be processed by his brain so he couldn't interpret what his eyes reported- the report got burned before reaching the command center.

"If you could get my contract from him first... I wouldn't mind it being in your hands."

"Contract? What contract?" Her attention snapped to focus on him entirely, because that was a new piece, something unexpected on her mental board.

He blinked. "My... slave contract. I made them put it all in writing. They promised me safety for my family, my group of other street kids, shelter year-round from freezing and foul weather, and pay from work in the brothel to buy food and pay for a doctor sometimes, and I made them put it in writing. When Kriko died, I had to leave the island as quick as possible and my contract got left behind. I assume Vekar has it now, since Kriko willed everything to him."

Though she knew he couldn't see it, Crocodile's gears changed direction so abruptly she was sure Don heard it. Her body relaxed, and her hand began tracing an infinity symbol into his temple as she leaned against the wall, the large man sprawled across her like a blond blanket.

Then she purred the smile on her lips audible, "Tell me about Vekar."

"Ah, um. Shit. I actually remember what he looked like- just lemme call it up..."

He had to dig way down deep into his memories, hands curling around her hips as he tried not to think too hard about what _that_ particular tone of voice meant. It did things to him that were very inappropriate right now.

"I remember he's tall. For a regular person. Maybe five ten? Slender, not muscled, sure's hell not bulky. Dark skinned and very..." he struggled for a moment for a word, the image in his mind clearer the longer he talked about it. "Oily. He's got this feeling that he's made of oil and grease without actually _looking_ unwashed. But he greases his hair- or used to- with some absolutely awful-smelling stuff." He thought a moment more. "And he liked to be like you. That is, he liked to THINK he could be like you- uh, like, regal, of noble bearing, y'know. Like you. That was the ideal he was striving for, but, well, he could put on all the airs he liked, it didn't make him a noble. He always tried to talk proper, and was always talking down to everyone else except Kriko, and pretending mundane, ordinary things weren't worth his time. He couldn't pull it off. And that, I'll bet, he's still trying to do all these years later," he snorted in disgust.

"Properly." She corrected unconsciously, clearly still thinking. "Do you happen to know if he was 'lucky' enough to have a Devil Fruit?"

She was up to something, fishing for something. Something connected to whatever it was Don had just agreed to be a part of with the Strawhats, Ivankov, and Kid. In fact, Crocodile seemed to almost be eager that the answer would be 'yes', even if it was probably 'no'.

"Well, no. He was fond of using conditioning to force obedience based on tone of voice. He never had a Devil Fruit, Alex."

"Hm, then it will have to wait. No matter. I am a patient man." She rumbled, seeming to settle a little further into the blankets the way her namesake did a river.

Don smiled a little and nuzzled into his beloved's throat, spreading himself over her a bit more. "You are," he crooned softly. "I'm sure you'll put your plan into motion right when the time is perfect. You always do."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Don being his usual dumbass self. Y'all will see.

Also, Sara, thank you VERY much for the kind review. ^_^ I certainly hope you like how things are going.

* * *

"Luffy, are you sure we can trust them?" Robin sat forward, a frown on her face and the book she'd been reading closed around her thumb.

Her sharp blue eyes were focused on the shadowed alcove across the common room from where her crew had staked out their territory. She scanned the rest, noting that there were clumps of people muttering amongst themselves, casting furtive glances at the same pair who'd just retreated into privacy, and she didn't need to use her abilities to know that they all doubted whether the plan could actually be pulled off now that Doflamingo was among them. She shook her head and turned her attention to her captain.

Luffy fiddled with his hat and frowned. He'd been unable to keep his hands off it since they tried to take it away this last time, he'd very nearly lost it to a guard's halberd.

"Croc, I know we can. We settled our scores with him. But Feathers... I don't know. He seemed... weird." He turned to the blackness and shadows on his left. "Traffy, you know him, is he gonna betray us?"

Law stepped out of the shadows with a deep frown and his hands in his pockets.

"...I do not believe so, Luffy. He knows there is no other option than to ally with you and similarly he knows that betraying you would be a bad idea." He paused before adding, "He never has gone back on a deal he's made. He once explained it to me that obeying the 'rules' was integral to how he plays his games. Because if he doesn't abide by the rules, he doesn't get to punish the other players for breaking them, and he dearly enjoys penalizing the other players. However…"

His lips pressed into a thin line as he swept a hand through his hair.

"However you are correct in calling him 'weird'. He is not acting at all like his usual self. It may be whatever injury he sustained that allowed his capture, but I doubt it. No... I think there's something else going on. Something he wants to hide." He clicked his tongue. "Whether it is dangerous or not, I do not know yet. But I think, perhaps, I should give him a cursory examination soon. I might be able to discern more then. After all," his mouth quirked up in a deprecating smile, "there are few who know Doflamingo's mannerisms better than the boy who grew up with him."

Their conversation was cut off by the lights dimming. Noises of confusion and no small amount of excitement rippled through the gathered crowd as everyone's attention focused on one side of the common room. A heavy metal sheet was welded to a framework with a curtain and a row of bright lights, all currently aimed at the shadows off to the left of it. Makeshift speakers hung from either end of the lighting bar, and one of the nameless pirates was seated just inside the circle of light with a soundboard. He flipped a switch and Ivankov's voice boomed out overhead.

"Okay CANDIES~!" The overdramatic Okama leapt across the stage with a twirl of his microphone and a flashy wink, "Sanji-boy has just told me..." He paused for dramatic effect, "we are all out of food!"

Most of the room gasped audibly, bemoaning the proclamation, but in her corner, Crocodile just rolled her eyes and counted silently. Five... four... three... two... and...

"HEE HAW! I AM LYING!" Ivankov twirled out of the 'depressed' pose he'd been in, and pointed out at the audience. "AND YOU ALL FELL FOR IT! HEE HAW!"

The rest of his performance didn't matter because the brunette sand user sighed and climbed out of the tangle of limbs and blankets in which she was wrapped up. "C'mon, Donny. Supper."

Her voice was resigned, like she expected something to happen, and strangely she wasn't fighting against it. This plus her earlier demonstration of leaking power in spite of the seastone cuff on her arm added up to something disconcerting. Just how long had she been here?

It made Don nervous, and to be honest a nervous Doflamingo was a twitchy and hair trigger Doflamingo. But he trusted Croc, so he obediently got up and after a moment of searching with his hands to find her face, he pecked her cheek and took her hand in his. Ivankov's yelling hurt his ears, a lot, but he could deal with anything as long as he was with Crocodile.

All across the room people were gathering into the center, far too many people, where a long plank of wood had been fished out of a crack in the wall and balanced across crates and barrels that had clearly been pilfered from the other levels of the prison. From the end of the table closest to the Strawhat Alcove tins and bowls made of flattened metal and scraps of wood and leather were passed down, hand over hand, from person to person, an equal portion in each dish, and no one tried to hoard the bowls. There was a small din with a couple of small-time pirates who'd been brought in after Croc returned with Don, but the smack of a heavy hand against the pseudo-table was enough to make them stop.

Beside her lover, Crocodile grumbled, "Bloody marine."

She'd directed them to the very end of the table, as far from the Strawhats as possible, and coincidentally putting Don against a wall so that he didn't have to pass anything from anyone or to anyone. Her plan was to simply eat and return to their hole in the wall, but as with most of her attempts so far, it seemed not to be.

"Oh, Aly-chan~!" The Strawhat cook seemed to appear out of nowhere with his arm offered for her to take. "Did you forget you have a special place set, just for you among the other beautiful ladies?"

Croc tensed, clenching her jaw, and her spine shuddered. "No. I had thought to spend this evening instructing our newest partner in how things are done here."

An air of danger settled over the trio, and Sanji smiled, "Then wouldn't it be best to show him _exactly_ how things are done here?"

There was a subtle threat implied in what the chef said, though only the sand user understood it implicitly. She stood carefully, and around them those who were close enough to hear the exchange were suddenly enthralled with the thin stew they'd been given for nourishment. Sanji was waiting, and Crocodile took a steadying breath, the word 'no' poised on her lips. She glanced from the cook to the other end of the table, where all of the women were gathered in a circle with a better table and actual pottery. Their stew seemed thicker too, as it had been dished up first, and there was a single empty seat. For her. She couldn't stop the shudder that ran through her spine a second time.

Doflamingo's head came up and behind his cracked glasses his eyes narrowed. He'd felt that shudder, both times, and there was an undertone to the voice that had broken his chain that set him on edge. And he was trying to take Crocodile away. His only lifeline here. The only one who knew- and if he had his way would EVER know- his secret.

And slowly, he stood up, his bulk half in shadow as he put his hand gently on Croc's shoulder. A cock of his ear told him there were feminine murmurs much further away, and all the nearer, louder voices seemed to be distinctly male.

"Is there a purpose to a sex-based segregation," he said, voice low, "that I ought to be aware of?"

"Why protection, of course. Everyone knows a woman's sensibilities are easily affronted, and I'm sure the last thing you would want is to expose dear Aly-chan to such brutish, uncivilized folk. Wouldn't you agree, Joker?" There was some undertone, that even if the blond chef meant it sincerely, it came across as sarcastic. "Besides, Aly-chan, wouldn't you be happier among others of your kind?"

Croc's breathing had picked up, and though Don couldn't see it, the embarrassed flush that accompanied her anger was audible in the way she practically vibrated next to him. "I am content where I am, Mr. Prince-san. I don't need special consideration, thank you for your concern."

Doflamingo's voice was utterly flat. "I can think of nothing more offensive to him than to assume so rudely that he needs to be protected. The only affront around here is the fact that you think you have the right to decide for someone else what you want them to be 'exposed' to. So no, I cannot say I agree. One of the most brutish things to do to anyone, in this case Crocodile, is to ignore what he says because you don't agree."

He wanted to hit the upstart chef. He wanted to shout. _Can't you see he's uncomfortable? Can't you fucking understand that women are not 'his kind'? Are you so stupid that a pair of breasts can change your worldview so drastically you cannot listen when a person TELLS YOU he or she doesn't want it? Can't you fucking see what's right in front of you; can't you hear how much it makes him unhappy to be considered a woman? And how dare you use such an insulting name for him when it makes him flinch!_

But he kept his mouth shut on that. He kept his argument as polite as he could stand, and his voice toneless even though he wanted nothing more than to get angry, get aggressive and argue. He bit his tongue instead.

"It isn't a matter of whether I agree with her decision or not, is it? Aly. Chan." The threat grew.

There was something they hadn't yet uncovered, and it made Croc close her eyes and swallow. Somewhere close by someone else climbed to their feet and the wave of the sand user's hand had them sit again.

"As usual, your arguments are more than persuasive, Mr. Prince-san. I'll return after supper, Don." Her tone was resigned, almost... defeated?! And she reached her hand to touch the back of her lover's gently, as though he was the one needing reassurance that she'd be fine.

He did. Because until Croc touched his hand with hers, it was already balling into a fist as his shoulders tensed like bowstrings. His teeth ground together, and his hand flipped to hold hers so he could lean in and kiss her cheek again- though he missed and kissed her temple instead. It would do for now.

"I'll wait 'til you're done," he said, which would dispel (hopefully) any suspicions that arose from him just sitting there until she came back.

"Agreed."

Sanji offered his arm, and she took it, though not without lingering in Don's grasp for as long as possible. Then they moved off and it suddenly began to be clear why the Strawhat chef was doing what he was doing, because as soon as they thought she was out of hearing range the murmurs began.

"Ja see the skirt she's got on t'day?"

"If I could get me hands on her, ooh, she'd never wanna go back. I swear it."

"Wastes her time, she does. With a rack like that?!"

Then somebody elbowed Don, "Oi, how come she's all over you, mate? You own her or somethin'?"

The sudden elbowing did two things: it activated a reflex he'd forgotten he had, and it severely aggravated his wound. It was lucky for him, because even though his hand flashed out in what should have been a brutal slap of the offending limb, it was more of an aggrieved, weak push as he hunched up.

"Yes, she's fucking mine," he hissed through clenched teeth, head touching the board in front of him as his whole body shuddered. He didn't have enough breath to add 'and I'm hers, for the past twenty years, lay the fuck off'.

A sudden second hand touched him, the owner silent for a moment, but the first person yowled in pain. It was as the sound tapered off into a whimper that the deep voice of one to whom Croc trusted her life reached his ears, "Do you require aid, Doflamingo-san?"

The shifting of bodies and grumbled discontent followed that as around them the others backed away slightly.

Don attempted to bolt upright when the new strange hand touched him, but the yowl of pain informed him that this wasn't a threat. And then Bones was there, and he let himself relax, at least in the most miniscule ways.

"Yes, please, Bones. The Marines got me with a gut shot and it was poorly treated," he murmured as quietly as he could and still hope the swordsman could hear him. "I'm not good for much right now."

"Boss won't be happy that you kept it from him." Daz rumbled just as softly, "But I know a guy who can help. Got anything sweet on you?"

He was puzzled, but—

"Yeah, always keep a few butterscotch candies in my pockets. Suckers too, for when I can't smoke. The rest went the way of my coat, but I still have a few."

"Good."

The stoic blademan deliberately draped Don's arm on his bad side around his shoulders, hauling the larger man up from his seat, and making a pretense of it being from the seastone. That, they all had in common and no one could say otherwise. It was a well-known fact that everyone who came in was weak as a kitten when they first showed up. So, the fact that the former warlord needed a hand getting about was easily written off as what some of them had taken to calling 'stonesick' as a play on being seasick when one first set out as a pirate. It was a short walk away from the table and closer to the stage, and shortly after Daz had led him off, the squeaky voice was audible over the din of dining pirates.

"Smoker, didn't I tell you to take it EASY! Not dodging that strike cracked three ribs, _you're lucky you weren't killed!"_ The tiny doctor was re-dressing the bandage around the former marine's torso and dressing him down just like he would any of the other muscleheads he regularly had to bandage up. "And I don't want to hear about that whole pirate nonsense again! You're one of us now, so _deal with it!_ You're under doctor's orders!"

"Ain't right t'just let th'assholes pick on th'new guys," a husky, smoker's rasp snapped back. "It ain't 'bout them bein' pirates s'bout them needin' an ass-whuppin' fer not rememberin' we're all fuckin' stuck in this t'gether an' we need everybody we c'n get!"

Don managed a smile. Ahhh, one of the only Marines he respected. "Still up to the same old shit, Smokey. Defend the weak and hand the asses of those pretending to be powerful back to them on a platter."

"...Pinky?" His voice was hushed- disbelieving. How could the marines have ever captured him alive, much less brought him in?

"I know, I know. Not for lack of trying. Gut shot while I was trying to get more air. Assholes. I don't think they even removed the bullet yet. I'm just lucky it didn't puncture my stomach and get acid all over my organs."

"They used a shitty fuckin' marine doctor? Then why even bother—?"

"Don't ask me," he said miserably. "I need to sit down, is there a chair?"

"Uh..." There was a skittering of hooves.

"That's the wrong way." Daz rumbled indulgently.

"I KNEW THAT!" The something squeaked.

Crocodile's second-in-command brought Don around and put gentle pressure on his back. "Sit."

Then the tiny thing squeaked closer, clearly intimidated by the giant man, and placed a shaking hoof on his knee. "You'll have to take your shirt off if I'm going to treat you."

Don sat, and smiled a little. "Alright." It took him a second, but he managed to find the pocket with the candy in it and offered one until he felt it taken. "A little fortification- it's kind of a mess."

Then he reached up and pulled his shirt off by gripping the collar and yanking it over his head and ohgodthehurtofbending!

He then sat up straight and pushed his knees outwards just a little, putting his torn-up stomach within easy reach. It was sloppily bandaged, the bandages leaking heavily, and what lay underneath was a mess of rent flesh, carelessly pushed about and cut up for the doctor to attempt to find the ball- which he had failed at- and given only one or two pitiful stitches, which were red and inflamed. They looked like they'd been made with fishing line, and from the state of that redness it wasn't sterilized either. Blood and a little milky discharge oozed free the moment the bandages came off, and Don hissed at the cool air on the burning spot in his abdomen.

"AIEEEEEEE~!" The little doctor threw his candy when he got a good look at the wound. "Smoker move. Clear the floor! Git! GIT!"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Dun dun DUN! 83

* * *

Chopper shouted and clattered about, waving his arms and doing his best to look intimidating, though it wasn't very. People moved though, because that was the other near-constant... almost everyone that came through the hidden doors was injured in some way when they got there. So, being treated and healed had endeared the reindeer to just about everyone in the covenant. So, people moved. Chairs scraped on the stone as they were dragged. The sound of cloth flapping spoke of someone putting a layer down to keep the area clean. And murmurs of realization were underlined with a tone of anger that the marines had fallen into such measures as those when it came to patching up the damage they'd done.

"Daz, get him on the ground, but don't pull those stitches too much. AND SOMEBODY FIND ME LAW!" The little doctor screeched, rushing over to Don's side.

Don didn't seem to be too alarmed- but then, he couldn't see it. "Oh, it's that bad?"

He winced and breathed out sharply as Daz helped him down, feeling the half-coagulated scab at the very edges of it pull as he laid flat, breathing deeply through his nose until his chest felt like it would burst and he let it out again.

"I didn't think... it would be so bad... I mean, the guy didn't even get the- the ball out... he couldn't have cut me up too much... guess I was wrong," he added with a little, lopsided smile.

There was a clatter of boots in the doorway. "What's the—"

The footsteps stopped dead for a moment, then came closer, until there was a vibration right next to him that he felt up his spine and a dull 'thud'. Knees on the floor, he guessed.

"Papa," An all too-familiar voice murmured, and Don's head turned at the break in it, reaching up for him.

The large man tried to soothe his fledgling, "S'not as bad as it looks—"

"No it's worse, now shut up! Chopper, what're the treatment options available?"

Don smiled at the sharp bark that cut him off. So cute, all grown up and a doctor-captain on his own.

"First things first, get that bullet out of him. Second..." The reindeer looked around, measuring people with his eyes. "I think we need to find him someone to switch with, someone who'll ACTUALLY LISTEN!"

That part of his sentence was obviously meant for Smoker to hear, and his hooves clip-clopped around to the door, peering out around at the gathered people at the table. The only one that even came close to Don's size was Daz, and Chopper wouldn't put him out of commission. He needed to blademan to do what he'd been doing, acting as guard. He gave a frustrated little noise.

"I don't see what other choice we have. Stitch him up, I'll send a couple of the Pipe Crew out to find the medicines I need, and hope for the best. When the plan goes down, we need him at full strength, just like everybody else."

"He'll make a full recovery just fine," Law said as his Room billowed out, fueled by his fury that any man could leave a patient—_his patient, his father—_in this condition and dare call himself a doctor. "He'll make a full recovery or _I will know why_."

Don barked a laugh. "Oooh. I'd better get ready to be all healed then, don't wanna have to answer why I'm not."

"Damn straight, you goddamn oversized bird!"

Chopper pushed everybody back, installed Daz on the door, and hauled Smoker to find his captain. "LUFFY! LUUUUUFFFY!"

The namesake of the Strawhat crew sat up from his bowl of stew and blinked. "Mah, Chopper. Smokey all healed yet?"

His grin was slightly forced, a shadow of the easy-going joy he'd had out on the high seas. In short, being back here had taken its toll on the Pirate King. For all that it was his leadership that had ensured everyone's survival up to that point, he seemed to be constantly in war mode, and the reason for why hung from the string around his hat—the medallion that had once been proudly displayed on his brother's grave.

"Luffy, I need the Pipe Crew." The reindeer was slightly out of breath from running, "Antibiotics, bandages, antiseptic wash. This one's bad, Luffy. Really bad. We might lose him if we can't treat the infection. Do you think Sabo can do it? Can he get back into the hospital again?"

There was shouting from Law and a scream of agony that was enough to knock out several people who were too close.

Smoker looked over his shoulder, worried at that sound. That was the sound of one of those damnably fragile seastone bullets turning into shards when caught by tweezers.

He ground his teeth."I dunno if he can, but we gotta ask. This is settin' up to be a long surgery an' an equally long recovery. Fuckin' butchers. I dunno how he's stood the sheer pain this long."

"Have a little more faith, Smokey." The topic of their conversation walked up to them like a rooster with his hat tilted to shadow his scar, and a smug grin on his face. "We'll be in and out like a hotdog down a hallway." He spun his weapon of choice, a tiny flame at the end of it, and winked. "We allowed to play, Oh King of the Pirates?"

Sabo's exaggerated bow had Luffy laughing in spite of the circumstances of the request, and Chopper flailed about, a bit frustrated with how lightly both were taking the situation. Jokes were fine but not when he had patients' lives on the line. The former noble fluffed the tiny doctor's head fur, and gave a sharp whistle, drawing the attention of about six scrawny, almost underfed, boys just under the age of maturity. He set out with his top hat on and pipe in hand, the rest of them falling into line behind him when the mystery door opened in the wall and they disappeared.

At the women's table, off to the side, a commotion broke out when Croc's voice snapped over the din of people talking, "GODDAMNIT LET ME GO!"

Smoker appeared at his- her- side in a moment with a restraining hand on her shoulder- and would bring out the smoke snake if necessary. "Hold up a sec', Croc. Calm down. Stormin' aroun' ain't gonna help nobody."

"Get your hand off me too." She fumed. "I want nothing more than to be left alone! Why is that so difficult for you 'heroes' to understand!? I am not incapable of defending myself."

"Yeah but..." One of the other girls was both nervous about the altercation and worried for what she perceived as her fellow woman.

"Contrary to popular belief this is NOT the first time I've had tits, now do me the favor, and BACK OFF!" Crocodile's hair had flung into her face as she wrenched her shoulder out from under Smoker's grip. "I am still Sir Crocodile and you would do best to remember it, White Hunter."

Oh- oh, so she HADN'T realized where Don was yet. Oh shit.

"I can assure you that I've never forgotten, Croc. But right now, you need'a be calm. Okay? Ya can't ferget there's somebody who needs ya t'be calm for 'im right now."

He took a step to the side, which framed Doflamingo's empty seat.

Her eyes snapped around the room, uncharacteristic worry plain on her first for the first time since she'd arrived. "Where is he? Where did he go? What happened while I was imprisoned with the froo-froo club!?"

"He's safe fer right now, but I ain't tellin' ya any more 'til yer calm. He needs calm righ' now."

There was another burst of noise from the direction of the infirmary and Smoker's eyes flicked in that direction before he thought about it.

"His wound." She whispered, the center of her being dropping out from under her. "Tell me. At least enough that Law is with him. There are things you have no right to know, that are important to his doctor."

"Yeh, Law is with 'im now," He replied, voice soothing and even. "They've sent the Pipe Crew out fer supplies. If there's somethin' Law needs t'know, you oughta tell'im. They're in the infirmary now- but ya can't go in," he cautioned when he saw her weight shift. "Law's operatin'. An' we all know s'best not t'watch."

Croc wavered for a moment, indecision plain on her face, but a giggle from a set of twins she didn't know by name made up her mind. "Then I'll wait outside the door until he's finished."

She deliberately pushed past the former marine with a huff that would have been a growl had she possessed her normal voice, and stalked straight through a cluster of men who were sharing a drink. The water evaporated from their cups as if it had never been there. She established a place to sit on a barrel next to Daz at the door, crossed her arms and closed her eyes, focusing through her other senses to anticipate any trouble.

Luffy tilted his head to the side and gave a considering blink, "Chopper..."

The tiny reindeer jumped to attention at his captain's side.

"It's working."

The curses Crocodile could hear from her new position were frightening. Law didn't curse, not like this. But he was now. All those little fucking shards!

Interspersed with those were Don's little grunts, the occasional hiss and the even more occasional breathy sob as the seastone speared his insides and hurt so badly he just wanted to cry. But the movements of his stomach would hurt even worse, leaving him with no options at all.

But after two hours, he gasped, "Can we- can we take a- a break? Pl-please."

Law growled. "Two more shards. Then we'll break for a bit."

Don whimpered.

"Promise." Two shards later, and Law emerged, wiping his hands on a towel and gritting his teeth. "Chopper, has the Pipe crew returned yet?"

He left the door open and his Room up as he went in search of the little doctor.

Crocodile took the opportunity to slip into the operating Room. Law would know she was there, but the only thing she touched was Don's hand. She brought it to her cheek and kissed his palm, letting Daz and the curve of the room hide how she dropped her guard. She hated how she was driven to cling to him, how she needed to be next to him. When she was male none of this happened, she never felt like this. Okay, maybe she did, but she could refuse it better, bury it under paperwork and plans and all of the other things she had tugging at her attention, and... maybe that was the point. Here she couldn't distract herself, here she had nothing she had to actually do, other than those stupid meetings of the froo-froo club. Most of the females were vapid and uncaring of anything of consequence. The only ones she might have had a rapport with were members of the Strawhat crew, and one of those didn't trust her any further than she could spit, which wasn't very far.

Outside, the Pipe Crew had indeed returned, bearing more than just medicine and bandages. Sabo had to climb on the table and raise his arms for quiet, "Oi! OI! _OI YOU LOUTS!_" They quieted, "I've found the missing non-fruit users! There's a seventh level. Carved into the bedrock of the seafloor on the backs of fishmen!"

A cheer rang out across the room and Ivankov and his back-up dancers began shaking their glitter-decorated rears in a victory dance that very few people were actually watching.

Within the infirmary Don turned his head and smiled weakly. "Mmm. I know those calluses..." His hand curled around hers and he gave it a little squeeze. "Sorry I didn't mention it- didn't think it was as bad as Law and... Chopper was it... seem to feel it is. Does it look terrible?"

He couldn't tell- he was pleasantly numb at the moment, Law choosing to cut off the nerve signals from about the ribs down. Law had been forced to leave the incisions open, jagged and bluntly done, while he went to get the supplies he needed and discuss what the newly discovered people ad level would mean for their collective.

The conversation was being carried out at the tops of voices because the people who were missing crew members wouldn't settle down long enough to find out what needed to be done to rescue said missing crew members. Croc didn't care though. She had what she needed, and she shook her head. Her voice shook to betray her attempt at being calm. Too many nerves frazzled all at once, and something she hadn't mentioned yet, that she knew he wasn't ready to hear.

"I can't say yet. You know the middle of surgery always looks worse than after he's all done. Let the boy work. You raised him for this, remember?"

He smiled a little more and hummed. "You do make a good point. I'm glad he took a break though- he can't numb the nerves until they've lit up in pain first, because if he just shuts them all off it'll mess with my motor functions, I guess. And that's pretty painful."

A voice rose in an almost shriek over the crowd. "I SAID I HAVE A PATIENT IN CRITICAL CARE NOW SHUT THE FUCK UP AND CALM THE FUCK DOWN SO I CAN GET WHAT I NEED TO FIX HIM AND ARRANGE WITH THE PIPE CREW TO RESCUE YOUR NAKAMA LIKE SENSIBLE ADULTS INSTEAD OF PANICKING CHILDREN!"

Don chuckled, then winced. "Oh he does so hate to be interrupted."

That certainly shut them up, and with due time, Chopper had the packs of supplies balanced on his back in walk point, escorting Law back to the Room. He frowned when he saw Crocodile sitting there, but said nothing, merely laying down next to them both, so his fellow medic could have easy access to the supplies Don needed so desperately. For her part, the sand user scooted over a little further out of the way, though still with her hand wrapped in her lover's fingers.

Don was more relaxed with his beloved there and even well enough to poke at his adopted son. "A little tense, are we?"

"Oh good, you're feeling better enough to make smartass remarks, you're ready for the rest of the surgery then," Law replied with a snap of gloves.

Doflamingo subsided and focused on his breathing. "Yeah, g'head."

And he did.

It was a grueling surgery, he had to take him apart layer by layer, make sure he got all the shards of seastone, had to stitch back together what said shards had cut, and had to clean the abdominal cavity of all the blood that had pooled there. It was a relief they'd seemed to catch the infection very early and he used alcohol well on the punctures.

Afterwards, Chopper chased Law into the arms of a rather confused Smoker with strict instructions to go lie down and not get up again until breakfast, or so help him the reindeer would ensure it! Hmph! Then he came back, and gave the brunette on her knees next to the patient a stink eye.

"You should be resting too. You'll be sick tomorrow if you don't and you know it." The tiny doctor shifted back into brain point to begin packing things up and storing them on a set of makeshift shelves at the back of the storage closet-turned-medical bay.

"I am fine." Croc growled, holding Don's hand all the more tightly.

"You've been unstable and moody all evening. I heard you with the other—"

"I AM NOT ONE OF THEM!"

"That's exactly my point." Chopper gave her his most professional look of concern he could manage. "You are physically, and you're going to respond like they would, regardless of what you feel in here. You seem to like to forget, Alex, that I'm used to this."

Strangely enough, the former shichibukai seemed pacified by that, she didn't even comment on the use of her first name, which was something up until now, only Don had been allowed to get away with. The reindeer came up to her and patted her arm, just below the elbow. Don could feel her relax further, the slump of defeat that often followed a dressing down by one's doctor.

"Just promise me you'll get some rest with him, and I'll leave you two alone. I know you've missed him, even if you don't want to say it out loud, and I think sharing it with him would be good for you. It'll help you move on from it."

There was a silent exchange beyond that, and the next sound was the Strawhat crewmember's hoofsteps leaving the room. He muttered something to Daz that had the large swordsman sitting with his back to the door, both blocking them in and guarding them from being disturbed.

Smoker bundled off both doctors with muttered, affectionate curses "goddamn trouble making pirate doctors" and Don listened until they were out of earshot, then he turned his head back to Crocodile.

"Well... c'mon. Best get comfortable. If there's sharing going to happen- if you want to- you should probably be comfortable," he said, trying to be light about it.

He didn't want her to feel pressured, but at the same time he was worried. Concerned. Things were happening all over the place and if there was something Croc was hung-up on he wanted to help if he could.

She hmph'd after the meddling doctor but did as Don suggested, sliding down next to him carefully so as not to pull on his stitches. The last thing she wanted was a second doctor annoyed with her, especially _that_ one in particular. For a while she was quiet, just listening to his heartbeat and letting him take comfort in having her in his arms. Then she sighed, and tilted her head so she could look at him. Her lips pursed, and she almost spoke twice before she finally blurted it out.

"How do you feel about kids?"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** 83 Y'all are gonna hate me for this one. Fufufufufu~!

* * *

It wasn't until several days later Don was well enough for prolonged coherent thought. It was then the infection cleared out of his blood completely and while the stitches were still staying in and he was forbidden to do much moving, he had plenty of time to think. And think he did, long and hard, while he recovered. It took longer than he expected- several weeks instead of just a few. Law, Chopper, and Croc all conspired to keep him abed with any excuse once he started to get restless, and Croc in particular would entertain his brain once he began to get whiny from boredom.

Most of his thinking was done about Croc. About the last thing she said before Don had passed out.

_How do you feel about kids?_

At first he'd been confused- she knew how he felt about kids. They were adorable and he loved them and he had a really bad habit of adopting them. It had taken the fever's passing to connect it to the rest of the context clues- 'you'll feel better if you tell him', 'the others told me you're getting moody'... 'how do you feel about kids'.

But that was impossible. It didn't WORK. Miraculous conception was not a thing that was possible, but Croc didn't do sex in her female form so-?

But kids. That simple question had a hard answer. He loved kids, he adored them, he did. He would. Unconditionally. No questions asked, except maybe... he wondered who the father was. And if it was really willing on Croc's part, because if it was coerced in any way at all he had somebody to murder. Violently.

He turned to his beloved, sweeping his hand out until it hit something soft. He recognized the curve of her breast and instead moved it up to her shoulder and arm instead. "Hey there."

Curled against his chest and lightly dozing, the object of his thoughts blinked and made a groaning type noise far more befitting someone of a fairer sex than she. In fact, it stood out as even more odd because instead of sitting up and grumbling about things to do and being kept from them, she actually snuggled in closer, gripping him tightly across as much of his chest as she could manage with her single intact arm. She mumbled something about pineapples and growled, burying her nose in his shirt.

He chuckled and stroked her hair. "Now now, Marco has never done anything to you. Shhh about that. You asked me a question a while back... do you want to ask me again?"

"Hmm? Question? Huh?" She blinked at him, golden-brown eyes bleary with the almost sleep she'd been in, and confusion wrinkling the bridge of her nose further than it already was. "You know I hate when you just pick random conversations to start having over again weeks after I've forgotten what we were going to talk about, right?"

"It was a pretty important question. The kind that I'm surprised you haven't brought up again," he said slowly, running his hand down her arm to her hip. "It's a question you know the answer to, so you asking it is kind of a red flag."

She grew quiet, the kind that meant she was hiding something and didn't want him poking at it. "It doesn't matter. The situation will fix itself."

"No, it does matter," he insisted gently. "Or you wouldn't have asked. Even if it does... fix itself... please, talk to me."

She pulled away slightly, moving as though to get up, "When do I ever talk about things?"

She froze, however, when his fingers drifted off of her hip and down to place his palm against her stomach. Her breathing picked up, almost as though she was afraid. It wasn't much, just enough to make her clothes not fit right, barely big enough for him to even feel, but as compared to the flat plane it usually was, it was a big difference. Everything seemed to hang in that moment and she gripped the cloth of his sleeve tightly enough that her knuckles turned white.

His fingers spread, palm moving just slightly, fingers protectively caging the tiny little bump. "You don't, usually. But I'm asking you to. Here, with me. Because you know me and I will not argue your decisions about your body. Please."

She shivered, withholding the entirety of herself as usual, and in a very, very small voice that almost seemed to come from somewhere else she asked, "What do you want to know?"

"Do you want it?"

"Yes? No? I don't know."

He nodded. "Okay." No argument, no pressing. "If you decide to keep it, I am with you unconditionally; I will love it and adore it as my own. If you don't, I am also behind you on hundred percent. I only have one other question for you right now. Who do I need to kill?"

This was a story that would take a while to explain, and she shuddered thinking about it. "It..."

She was cut off there by a polite knock outside their alcove, and upon looking up she tensed again, gripping Don's hand away from her belly so quickly that she was certain she pinched something in the process. There was a pause, expectant and heavy, then the person just outside cleared his throat and stepped through the curtain that had been hung up for privacy.

"A snack, Aly-chan. To share, if you wish." Sanji's voice held none of the threat it usually did when they were out among the others, and he placed the tray carefully across their laps. "Call if you need anything else."

Then he was gone again, the curtain making a small fwoosh as he left, and Croc drew her feet up to sit, knowing that she really should eat the bread and meat spread the cook had provided, even if she really didn't want to. So she took the period of debate over it to shake her head and answer her lover's question.

"No one."

Don sat up, flexing his hand and propping himself up at an angle so he didn't mess up his stomach, and rested his cheek on her shoulder. "Okay." He wrapped his free arm around her waist, his hand resting on her thigh as he sniffed. "Mmm. Why does everything that asshole makes smell so nice?"

His stomach growled, but he was still on a soft solids diet and he had no idea what the cook had brought, so he nudged his nose up against her jaw and pressed a soft kiss to the spot behind her ear.

"But if you ever do want to talk about it, I'm all yours."

She took the bread, scraped a fingerful of the meat paste off of it, and rolled her shoulder to get him to turn forward, "Open."

He did, having learned over the past few weeks several body signals of hers, and of course, as always trusting her. Though it felt so very peculiar to be holding his mouth open like a little kid. He did it anyways, because she always had a good reason.

She put her finger on his tongue, letting him suck the soft, vaguely sausage-tasting, spread from her digit and sighed, nibbling the bread. "It smells so good because he's good at what he does, and don't call him an asshole. He's overbearing for a reason."

"I know, I know, he's one of those fucking white knight people, I can smell the stink of his chivalry. But I don't like it when he does that vaguely threatening thing. Makes me want to kick out his knees." He sighed softly and kissed her fingertip before she pulled it away, wishing desperately he could have solids again.

"There's more to it than that. He white-knights for every female he ever sees, but..." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "He knows. He's... like me. And... he... I wasn't supposed to get like this from it." She deliberately took a bite of the thing so she could stop talking for a moment, extremely uncomfortable with what she'd just revealed.

His arm held onto her a little tighter and he was surprised at the sudden... intense... _jealousy_ that sprang up in his stomach. He took a few deep breaths to smother the flames; he had no right to be jealous, none at all, Croc was willing to put up with him playing around when they were apart, he had absolutely _no right_ to be upset and especially not jealous of Crocodile doing the exact same thing. None.

He let out the breath slowly, considering his words. "Things... happen sometimes that weren't planned. I'm surprised he wouldn't know better than to pretend different parts make not a different person being as he's the same."

She glared, eyes darting from blind eye to blind eye furiously. "There is _nothing_ between us, Donny. Whatever you're thinking you've got it wrong! I don't _do_ that. Ever. You know that. I hardly want sex when I am normal, _let alone_ when I am like _this_. He treats me as he does to keep up the act. Believe me, I am _not_ his type."

His eyes lowered- though sightless, he could tell she was looking into them. "Like I said. Sometimes things happen that weren't planned for, and never expected. I'm not questioning you."

And he never would.

"You think I slept with him because I _wanted_ to!" She growled, and pushed away from him. She was fuming by the time she reached her feet. "If there had been _any_ other choice, Doflamingo, I would _gladly_ have taken it. Do you know how horrible it feels being in this body?! How _disgusted_ I am at myself?! Do you even have _ANY_ idea what it's like to want to tear yourself apart because the skin you were born in doesn't match who. You. Know. You. ARE!"

She was ranting now, fueled by pent up rage that under any other circumstances she'd have kept tightly controlled until she could expel it on some unsuspecting country that deserved a drought for a decade or two.

"But do you think anyone out there knows that? And I don't mean outside of our whatever-this-is, I mean outside this prison! There are plenty beyond this curtain who understand, you just don't know them except once a month when Ivankov goes around STABBING EVERYBODY! But no. No no. You wouldn't know would you? You just got here. You have NO IDEA THE KIND OF PIGS THAT ARE EMPLOYED HERE!"

She was panting, hair hanging into her face and her voice echoed in the small room. Her hand clutched into a fist, and the bread crushed between her fingers. The air was hot, arid, and on the tray things had begun to dry out, in spite of being further than arm's length from her. She bared her teeth in the fashion that she usually used for enemies that had _really_ gotten under her skin, like Luffy when he took down her organization, and on her exhale, tiny growling noises caught somewhere between hiss and rattle escaped her clenched jaw.

He pushed to his feet, feeling for her. The heat and dry rasp told him where, and he took a step closer. "I know you hate that body, and you would not have sex while inside it if you had a choice. I know that." His mouth twisted and his fingers twitched. "That's why I said I wouldn't _ask_."

He was trying; he was trying so hard, he really was. But something pulsed through him and before he could stop it, it was bursting out his mouth.

"I know _exactly_ what kind of pigs work here; I put a fair number of them in here. I just didn't expect them to get promoted to _guards_ and not ripped apart by the inmates. I know it's fucking cruel that Ivankov didn't change you back the minute he realized your hormones wore off. I know that what's happened to you is nothing you ever wanted and if you would tell me who, I would kill them with my bare fucking hands."

His hands clenched and his knuckles popped and creaked.

"And if being in that body for you is anything like being blind again is for me, I think I know what it feels like! And I _do_ know how disgusted you are, because that's how much I repulse MYSELF, don't TELL ME I don't know what it's like to want to tear the skin you were born in to shreds because I _know that only too FUCKING WELL!_"

He hunched and whirled, showing her the scarred, horrifyingly mutilated expanse that was his back- she'd seen it before, but he'd never put it on display, not like this.

_"Don't you dare question my understanding of your self-hatred and desire to tear apart your body when I MOTHERFUCKING DID!"_

She stepped back, the air clearing, and she shook her head, though she knew he couldn't see it. "Y-you...you don't...that... that isn't the same..."

Her voice shook, and she wrapped her arms around her ribs. She needed to hide, find a place to be alone. Somewhere no one could hurt her. Bury herself in the river mud and not come out until she was hungry again. So, she sank, dropped to her knees and hunched over herself, pressed as far back into the shadows as she could get. She wouldn't cry! Crying was for the weak! And she had stopped being weak a LONG time ago. But she was fighting it, shaking with the effort, and strangled noises coming from her. He was between her and the door, and somewhere in her twisted sense of self and what had happened, him being that much bigger, even if he was blind and stringless, it tripped something that had her cowering from him. Something she had _never_ done.

Internally she berated herself. She was Sir Crocodile! Former Shichibukai and one of the strongest pirates known to the Grand Line! The man who'd almost conquered Alabasta, nearly toppled the Marines at the War of the Best, if not for her actions Roger's boy would have died far less nobly than he did! Who was she to _cower_ in the presence of an angry man!? Especially this one! She was weak! Had allowed herself to be cornered! Something she'd promised herself over and over would _never_ happen again. Her vision tunneled, focusing on a single speck of dirt among thousands on the floor and the blood in her veins rushed through her ears like the swell of the surf over her head. She couldn't breathe! She was going to drown! Sand, cut off! Sinking! No! NO! NONONONONONONONO!


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** I know it's been a while, but I keep getting the feeling that y'all don't like this one as much... I at least expected someone to yell at me for the last chapter. :/

* * *

Doflamingo's burst of energy petered out, and he sank down, both knees hitting the floor with the loud 'thud' of his full weight as he crumpled. But he heard- raspy, quick breaths. Panic breathing. He'd know, he'd gone through it many a dark night.

He turned around, shakily, useless eyes squinting in the direction of the sound as he reached out with one hand, searching. "...Alex?"

"D-d-don't..." She stammered, scrabbling back, still panicked, but her voice had dropped, barely above a whisper, like she thought that if she was quiet it would be more effective than if she was screaming, or...

As though she knew by heart that screaming wouldn't do any good.

He stopped. Oh, god no. He _knew_ that sound. Any voice, any tone, anything else, no, please not that! Not the voice of a boy beaten within an inch of his life for the fiftieth time and already knowing there was no mercy to be had no matter how he screamed to please the master.

His face crumpled, and so did the rest of him. Everything he'd been holding back, everything, flooded him all at once and he curled into as tight a ball as he could, there on the floor, as echoes rebounded through his head. The breakdown he'd been trying so hard not to have hit him all at once and his panic-breathing joined hers.

For ages, there was no other sound than their harshly out of sync rhythms and the tiny, almost inaudible keens he made twining with the whispers of sound she made.

Then.

Something glimmered. On the edge of consciousness, but there, and Don raised his head, eyes squinting. What was...?

It was something... thin. And... shiny? And the harder he looked the more of them there seemed to be. Like... strings. Strings that had a shape. They curved in strange ways, fell around and gathered in oddly—

He realized what he was seeing at the same instant he ceased to panic. He was _seeing strings_. And the spell his blindness wove over his mind broke, instantly, because when he could 'see' he was not that ten-year-old still seven years of abuse away from freedom.

He scrambled to his knees and realized the shape he could only so-vaguely make out was Croc, pushed up against the wall.

"Alex," he called for her. "Alex. Alex look. Look at me," he was almost whispering. And he kept his eyes fixed on the only thing he COULD 'see'- the thing he wanted to see most. Her.

She shook her head, barely. If she kept her focus on the spot, on the speck of dirt that was in front of her nose, she wouldn't die, she could breathe, they wouldn't do it again, she'd be safe. She rocked slightly, back and forth, the picture of someone trying to hide from something that they couldn't escape. She was muttering, under her breath, half-whispered pleas that she tried with gritted teeth to stop from escaping. Things about men, and their hands, touching, grabbing, pulling, forcing.

"Alex." His voice strengthened, firmed. "Alex, look at me. Please. I'm not going to touch you, I promise. Not now. So please, please look at me." He inched a little closer. "There's nobody here but me. Please, Alex, look up."

She did, her eyes haunted, drawn, angry, and... the one thing Don thought he'd never see in her... fear. She spoke again then, the words pouring out of her like vomit, "He stopped them. He convinced them that he could break me so they'd back off. I didn't know who he was, but I knew his voice. He told me what to do to make them stop. But then... but then they... they found out who he was... who he belonged to, and they cut him down. They were going to kill him. But Blueno. There was a door. Opened up. And Ivankov. Here. Too late. Too late. Too late. Don..."

He reached for her- stopped, at the last second, and put his hand on the floor instead. "He's alive. You're alive. And I'm here. I'm not good for much..." his eyes met hers for the first time since arriving, "but I'm here for you."

The girl should have been a powerful, strong, commanding man, and deep within the pit of her soul that man was fighting tooth and nail to regain control of a body he didn't recognize or want. Her hand scooted forward unclenching finally, at least a little bit, and her fingers brushed his, trembling and strangely dry.

"M-m-make it st-st-stop, Don... make it stop... I can't..."

He reached forward- slowly, gently- and gathered her up in his arms, bringing her up against his chest but leaving her back open so she could retreat if she needed to, and he gently kissed her forehead. "I'm right here now, Alex. I'm all yours and nobody can take me. Focus on me, okay? Focus on me. Shhhh. They can't touch you anymore."

If anyone tried, they would die a horrible, painful death at his hands.

And if he found whoever did this, they would die a painful, BLOODY death and he didn't care what the consequences were.

She simply let him hold her for a while, a self-indulgence she'd been acquiescing to since he arrived really, because his touch was distinct enough that it chased away the ghosts of lesser men. Soon her shivering stopped, and she was able to close her eyes without seeing their faces, their voices fading from her memory for the moment, and though she felt rent open, exposed in ways that she had never been before, she was calm again, the collected mentality that was her comfort against the cruelty in the world back in the forefront of her mind. However, with it came another surprise.

"I'm sorry, Don. I didn't mean those things. I know how badly you despise being you sometimes."

He kissed her temple. "I'm sorry for exploding. I'm sorry I brought my own issues up."

She didn't deserve to be reminded of his old, hidden hurts when she had her own, much worse in his estimation, hurt to handle.

"Promise me you won't go hunt him down. He did what he had to do to keep it from being worse. It isn't his fault things got out of hand."

She fingered the scars around her mangled wrist, sorely missing her hook. It was just one more layer of dressing down that this stint of imprisonment had done to her. Her clothes. Her powers. Her weapons. Her gender. Her sense of sanity. The very things that she felt made up who she was, and Impel Down had taken them from her, bit by painful, excruciating, bit. She leaned against him, physically exhausted from the episode, and the room was noticeably cooler again.

She glanced down at her lap and noticed the dehydrated bread crumbs scattered about, mummified to within an inch of being dust. She poked one caught between two folds of fabric in her pants, and it disintegrated.

Her eyes went wide, "Don!"

His eyes—_his eyes_ went from her lap up to her face.

"Yes, Alex." He grinned. "Yes. You did do that."

A gasp tore from her and her hand came up to touch his face, "You can SEE!"

"Only a little. The barest glimmer," he warned. "I'm still next to helpless. I can't see anything more than a foot from my nose. But it's something."

The ramifications of just what that meant ran through her like an electric shock, the gears of her mind tumbling together like the well-oiled cogs of a clock, and a subtle shiver ran down her spine. The smile started slow, curling the edges of her mouth, and grew until her full namesake grin split her lips and showed off her teeth with a light in her eyes that spoke of the early days of Baroque Works when everything was coming together and the parts of her master plan were falling into place.

"We're gonna get out of here, Donny. Just you wait and _see_." She laughed.

He kissed her scar and grinned right back. There was something he loved about when Crocodile showed his teeth. "Of course. They really should have known better than to throw all the powerful Devil Fruit users into Impel Down, in the same general area, and then treat us all like shit so we all want to overthrow them. Bad strategizing," his tone became mocking, "Law had better ones when he was just a brat."

"Oh no no no. Dear Donny, you didn't notice because you were injured and handicapped by the stone. They _tried_ to keep us separated. They didn't anticipate we'd work _together_ to get out." She settled in a little more comfortably. "Mugiwara has a plan, but we need to bide our time until all of the players are in place. We're waiting for a few very specific Fruit users. You were one of them, though to be honest, I don't think any of us actually expected you to get caught until you had. I was taken in the first wave, I told you it had begun to wear off, so I let them have me. Daz and the Hellhound followed. Because we knew they already had Ivankov and the other Revolutionaries. The Pipe Crew was here, living as rats in the tunnels when they brought in CP9. That was our first glimmer of hope. Then the Strawhats invaded deliberately."

She paused to look up at him.

"That's when he intervened. They hadn't been able to actually touch me, but he came and he integrated himself with them, and told them he could handle me, teach me to be a 'proper lady'." She shivered, but safe in her lover's arms, her panic stayed behind the walls she'd built to contain it, "He spoke with me when he was making a show of it, explained who he was, why he was there, and apologized for having to do what he was doing. It made it easier. But they weren't happy with it only being once or twice. Before he was discovered, they had him take me three or four times a week. By the time Ivankov and Mugiwara had this place established, it was too late. They'd figured out he wasn't actually breaking me as he said he was, which was my fault; I let my temper get the best of me. My biggest weakness, eh?" She chuckled, a slightly higher-pitched version of her usual sardonic laugh, and pressed forward with the story. "They'd already cut him down when Blueno opened the door beneath our feet. I don't think I've ever been so concurrently relieved and infuriated in all my life. The rest is somewhat history, because the others trickled in, one after another after another. It was when White Hunter and his friend, the cage-cage woman, showed up that we realized what was happening. That was when Mr. Prince and Sunday made the list. After the rest of them show up, we're taking the government down."

The last she said in a determined growl.

Don listened patiently and nodded slowly. "Your short temper always was your downfall," he admitted, and then he smiled. "We're going to make them pay, Alex. We're going to make them beg for mercy and I, for one, will laugh in their faces and ask where it was when it was us in need."

"You do make revenge delicious, love." She grinned again, sadistic and cruel. "I want to watch their faces when their limbs turn to dust before their very eyes. They will _rue_ the day they decided to turn against us, and I will _gladly_ spend the rest of my life ensuring it!"

He nuzzled into her hair. "And I'll be right behind you," he purred happily.

It was a short time later when Robin closed her book. Ordinarily that would not have been a big deal, but with the way their security system was set up, it was a sign.

"Luffy, we have new arrivals to obtain."

The rubber man blinked around the soup bone he was sucking on and tried to talk only to wind up choking on it. His brother, though laughing the entire time, smacked him across the back with an open palm that had the bone flying out of his mouth. His tongue whipped out to snag it and slingshot the thing back between his teeth. He gave a huge grin and chomped it a few times. There really wasn't enough to go around if he satisfied his usual monstrous appetite, so being aware of that more than he ever let on, the man who would be Pirate King satisfied his cravings by chewing on things. Usually bones but sometimes Sabo's pipe, much to the amusement of his crew, and the frustration of his brother.

This time though, he spoke around the treat in a garbled question that was supposed to be, "Who're we rescuing this time? Icy, Him, Blinky, or Jinbe?"

Robin smiled at her captain's antics, glad that his sense of humor was retained, even if it was mostly slapstick theatrics to entertain their growing masses. "I believe it to be, as you so kindly put it, 'Icy', but I will have to get closer to be certain."

Aokiji looked into the bowels of the prison they dared to put him in and spat. He was normally easygoing, normally laid back, but first he lost the fight for Fleet Admiral to Akainu, and then they turned on Devil Fruit users anyway! He was also particularly displeased with their arrogance and disregard for him as a person- he'd lost his left leg in that fight and they hadn't so much as given him a cane when they put these damnable cuffs on him.

In short, the ice-man was quite burned through his usual chill.

The back of his cell opened and the footsteps coming through the sound echoed slightly. "One good turn deserves another, does it not, Kuzan-san?"

The archaeologist smiled from the shadows and crossed her arms, growing him a leg—granted her leg but it was functional at least—and gestured with one hand disembodied from her person for him to follow her.

He smiled- this, at least, was simple and familiar and his usual calm settled over him as he got up and began to walk, limping a bit so he didn't put too much pressure on her leg.

"I appreciate the hand- or foot, rather," he chuckled as he paced along after her gamely.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she began to speak, "We've been expecting you, and if we'd had the ability to get a word out, you'd have been warned. Are you injured, beyond the capacity for your power and your missing limb?"

"Nah, though thanks for checking. I knew it'd be stupid to resist so I just came along. No point in losing the other limbs."

She smiled and nodded. "Others were not so lucky, or intelligent. We have few rules, seeing as we are essentially a band of pirates, though there are two. You must swear allegiance to Luffy, and agree to not cause trouble. As soon as the others have arrived, we will be taking back what they have stolen from us, but in order to do that, everyone must be in accordance with the plan. Loose cannons could bring about unnecessary complications."

Her tone implied that she was sure he already knew all of this, but had to state it out loud anyway because they gave the speech to every newcomer to the rebellion. She wasn't even looking at him really, merely walking, relaxed, beside someone who had at one point been in direct opposition of her very life.

He just smiled, perfectly relaxed. "Hey, sounds like just my kinda place. Don't start trouble and let someone else be the boss and worry about the details. Which part of that is for you?"

A throaty chuckle accompanied her sweetest smile when she turned to him, "I get to get my hands on the person who dismantled my husband."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** At this point I'm basically only updating this one because I want it all online...

* * *

"Papa?" The knock on the outside of the alcove's curtain was different than any other that had been heard up to that point, and the voice was new as well, familiar and strained, but previously unheard. "Law says you're free to get up now, and a couple of us have a room set up. I was thinking maybe we could spar a little?"

Don sat up with a sort of abruptness he'd managed to avoid during his entire recovery and pulled painfully on the new scar tissue. "...You're here too?" He rose and pulled the curtain aside, looking down at something that hurt him right down in the gut wound. "They got you too, Bel?"

"Ah." The hyena ducked his head a little, "They... sorta got the whole family." He looked like he'd been kicked and that Don was going to be angry that most of everyone was there. "Luffy said that... after they went after Fishman Island, people started just giving up. Um, good news is they're starting to run out of space, yeah? So, they'll have to stop soon, right? Maybe the others will get lucky?"

Don's head twitched to the side. "No. They'll just start killing instead," he said bitterly, stepping out and one hand coming down to ruffle the young man's hair. "People with lesser known or less dangerous fruits, they'll kill them when there's no more room. But on the bright side..." He smiled lopsidedly, "if the whole family's here, then it'll be all of the Donquixotes participating and getting a taste of the blood of revenge when we tear this shithole and those who run it down to the roots."

"Um. Sugar's missing, and no one's heard anything of Violet either." Bellamy leaned into the touch but was clearly still worried. "Baby's here though, and the Hellhound."

He fell silent for a bit, and bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot with a tiny springing motion that didn't seem to be conscious. His brows furrowed and he looked like he was trying to remember something, but couldn't. So he settled for bouncing.

"Sugar is most likely somewhere with an army of toys to play with and enjoying breaking them. That one can take care of herself quite well. Violet probably went back to her original family. They can offer her more protection than I can right now," he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. Then he grinned and used one hand to tip Bellamy's chin up. "Hey. Wanna do your Papa a huge favor?"

Though his eyes said 'anything', Bellamy's smile was a carbon copy of the puppetmaster's, "What ya thinkin' about?"

"I'm thinking that two months flat on my back makes for locked-up joints in an old man. And I'm also thinkin' I could use my best spotter."

Now, the smile reached his eyes and the spring-loaded male threw his head back with purpose. "That's what I was thinkin' when Bro told me you was up for anythin'."

Don's own eyes crinkled in the corners, visible past the glasses.

"Well then, let's go! I'm stiff as a board though- we'll have to start off with... ugh... baby stretches all over again," he groaned theatrically.

He hated started over after a major injury, hated it. It could take him weeks to get back to prime shape.

"I have the perfect place! C'mon!"

Bellamy literally bounced, taking Don's hand, and pulled him towards the other side of the common room with all the excitement of a puppy. A couple of thugs that didn't matter much tried to make a comment but the hyena snarled at them, coiling his legs slightly. Clearly for all that he was willing to bend over backwards for his 'father' there was no question that he was still ruthless, because they scampered out of the way without even so much as a question.

The room to which the shorter blond took him was round, smoothed out by someone's Devil Fruit much as the rest of the place had been warped and carved, and lined with strange indentations. The very texture of the room seemed to be odd, random handholds, tiny target-type holes scattered about, and parts of the walls going up were wider than others, sloping or pinching or curving in various different directions. There was a rack of woven mats next to the door on the outside of the room and it seemed like there really was no singular purpose to it.

"This is the gym. A couple'a guys from the New World carved it so that practically any fruit user could practice with it." Bellamy strutted into the place like he'd come up with the idea, "Luffy's got this plan about the seastone. The more you work with it, the stronger you get! Everybody wears it. What ya think?"

"I think it's very smart of his archaeologist," he said, gamely letting Bellamy lead and watching him strut like a little peacock. "Especially since it definitely works. And that will destroy the only handhold over us the Marines have- well, except, y'know. Barrels of actual seawater. And the sea itself."

Then he dropped into a fighting stance- hand to hand, at which he and Bellamy both excelled.

"Now c'mon. Let's get me warmed up so we can actually work me and stretch me out without some ligament snapping. Law nearly killed me the last time I skipped a warm up."

"Hehehehe. Yeah, Bro would rearrange my springs!" The hyena laughed, bringing his fists up to guard his face.

He'd been there a while, because the light of the room glistened from the cuff on his wrist, in spite of his being able to easily access the coils of his Devil Fruit powers. He balanced his weight on the balls of his feet and nodded for Don to come at him.

The 'spar' portion of the program went pitifully quick- if it could even be called that. A shade of grappling, maybe ten minutes of wrestling on the floor and Don had to call it quits on the warm up. He was heavy and slow, hampered by the pull of delicate new scar tissue, not to mention pulling his punches because it was Bellamy. So they moved quickly on to the real thing Don needed- yoga-like stretches. His flexibility suffered heavily when he didn't stretch, and he'd gone two months without even minor stretches and it showed. He couldn't even touch his toes; his hamstrings had contracted so much.

That's what he needed Bellamy for. The younger man was very good at both knowing where Don's limit really was, and just how far to ignore Don's protests of 'ow fuck that hurts dammit' before he really WOULD hurt him. And Bellamy's physical strength was handy, since he could literally push Don that extra inch forward and hold him.

When the 'baby stretches' as Don called them were done, it was time for another 'spar' to cool down. That one was more pins and panting than anything else, with a little wrestling thrown in, and when it was done, Don lay on his side for a minute to catch his breath.

He'd 'turned off' his string sight for the moment. It was stronger, but still not strong enough, and for the spar he was in constant physical contact, so it had just been a distraction. Propping himself on his elbow, he turned to Bellamy and grinned.

"Hey. You got my blood all hot. Make it up to me with a kiss?"

The younger blond man blushed furiously and glanced around, "You know I can't tell you no, Papa."

Secretly thrilled at all the attention he was getting, Bellamy leaned in happily to capture Don's mouth, both eager to please and grateful for the chance to do so. Ever since the Skypiea debacle, the hyena had been more submissive, intent on proving that he really was worth Don's time, and moments like this, where he was asked for something specific, which was where he felt all of his hard work paid off. But there was one thing both blond pirates had forgotten, there was no door on the gym, meaning everyone in the common room could see what was happening.

It wasn't the most mind-blowing, as kisses went. Don kept it gentle, and sweet. Only the barest tease of tongue, and it didn't last too long either. But it was good. It worked like a pressure release valve- the building up need that had been accumulating in Don's lust centers for the past two months eased slightly. And while they didn't break away panting, not more than the mild workout left them, it was enough. Then Don pecked his forehead and flopped down flat.

"And now cuddles," he declared. "Because I hate being cold and you are a little heater."

Bellamy gladly curled up on top of him. If he'd have been a cat, he'd have purred. Now relaxed, he struck up unimportant conversation, going over the state of things, how strong people were becoming, how little the seastone affected the ones who'd been in it the longest, and other such points that really, as head of the family, Don needed to know. All the while unaware that they were being observed.

She growled, grinding her teeth and snarling. How DARE he!? RIGHT in front of her! HOW DARE HE!? Did they not know? Were they blind? How could they have not realized what was going on? What was it like, living in the mind of someone so stupid?! She fumed, tugging on her shirt and stormed off, heading for the Strawhats' alcove. Fine. If he could find comfort somewhere else, so could she! Oh how she longed to be able to clench both hands into fists, and more, that her shirt would stop riding up.

Someone snickered and she lashed out, grabbing him up by the front of his shirt so that he was nose to nose with her, "Is something funny?" He shook his head, quivering in fear, and she dropped him. "I didn't think so." She sneered, "Pathetic," and tossed her head, her hair far too long for her liking.

"Something the matter, Aly-chan?"

The Strawhats' cook, attuned to any woman in distress but particularly to this one, stepped out from the curtain, twisting the straw he had in place of a cigarette. There was really no way for even the Pipe Crew to pick up unimportant things like smokes when there were medical supplies and food and water to sneak in.

"Anything I can do to be of service~?"

"First, thank Ra you aren't spouting off those ridiculous hearts for once." She rolled her eyes, to keep them from being focused on his facsimile of a smoke, "And second, unless you can magically conjure clothing that will sufficiently cover your growing accident, no, you cannot help me."

He winced. "Perhaps we should _sit and talk_," he said slowly, eyebrows furrowing and smile a little tight. "In _private_."

For her to be talking about their mutual problem in public, she must be rather severely upset. As such, he needed to get her alone to actually talk to her and calm her down before she did something crazy, violent, or both.

"I don't see how that will solve the issue but fine. We can _talk_." She crossed her arms over her chest, winced with a hiss and dropped them with a growl of frustration, then stomped past him into the Strawhat alcove.

Usually she avoided actually entering the group's home but as she knew that most were out doing other things with other people, the only one she had to deal with was Robin, who glanced up at her, closed her book and took her leave, fully understanding her previous employer's mood was such that the privacy the sand user couldn't get in her own alcove was what she needed. The archaeologist gave an indulgent smile to Sanji and patted him on the shoulder as she left to find something to do away from where the storm was brewing. Croc paid her no mind and settled herself cross-legged on a pile of cushions that had been pilfered from the warden's office.

Sanji settled directly across from her, the straw flipping in his clever fingers. It was an old chef's habit- usually done with a knife, also done with anything short enough to flip. His smile dropped completely and he reached for her hand with his free one.

"Come on. I can tell you're not just angry, you're upset. Tell me what happened."

"Why should I talk to you about what's going on in my head?! I don't even talk to D—" She broke off with a huff. "I don't talk to anyone."

"And that would be the problem," he said gently. "Especially since the problem seems to be he-you-refuse-to-name-right-this-second. And I know very well how important that flamboyant, careless son of a bitch is to you. So come on, talk."

She seemed to refuse everything. She pulled her hand away, she wouldn't meet his eyes, her mouth drew up tightly, and she even seemed to fall back into the cushions to be as physically far away as she could get.

But after a few moments of silence she muttered, "It doesn't matter."

"It obviously does to you," he countered. "A burden shared is a burden halved."

He let her hand go, but he refused to let her run away. And he needed to know why he was kicking the shitty blond giant's ass before he went and did it.

"It really, really doesn't. It's always been like this, I would be stupid to expect it to change just because of the situation we're in. It's just never been in my face before is all, and I need your accident to stop making it an issue." She snapped, but then winced, looking down at where her shirt was bunched up, "Our accident..."

"While that's helpful in telling me your mental state- it's not telling me what the problem IS. I'd like to know _why_ I'm kicking in his ribs and sending him to the infirmary for another two months," he said mildly, ruthlessly ignoring her attempt at diverting the issue and reaching forward to bring her shirt down and cup her jaw. "Now tell me what he did."

The brush of affection seemed to be the last of it, because her entire face crumpled under his touch, tears she hated to shed driving down her cheeks without mercy. She ripped her head away from him, scrubbing furiously to make them stop. She hadn't cried since long before she'd eaten the Suna Suna no Mi, and under its influence she literally _couldn't_ cry. So, the utter betrayal of her body to listen to her only served to make her more upset.

He scootched in close- he didn't hug her, he didn't dare, but he held her face in both hands now. "C'mon, Aly. You're allowed to be upset. Now tell me why I'm about to go in there and kick him to kingdom come. Tell me how much I need to make him hurt."

"HE KISSED HIM! And they CUDDLED!" She wasn't the wailing type, but her voice wouldn't listen to her. She growled at the lack of control she had, "I hate this! I hate it. I hate it. I hate it! You! With your ideas and your plans and your promises! You! You said I wouldn't have to stay like this! You said Ivankov would fix it! You promised!"

"I thought he would- soon, when he gets over your hormone-influenced sass, he will! But we can talk to him about regulating the emotional hormones, because otherwise you'll never keep your temper," he promised. "Now who did he kiss and cuddle? And why does it upset you so much?"

Something about what Sanji said shocked her quiet. "It won't hurt her will it?"

Don and his philandering seemed to have been forgotten for the moment, and Croc gladly latched onto a subject that wasn't attached to a wound she had refused to acknowledge for nigh on twenty years. Her hand actually fell to her stomach for a reason other than to pull her shirt down. Her palm splayed protectively over the bump that made all of her clothes stop fitting. Two months after Don's arrival, and almost exactly four weeks since their discussion about it, put Croc firmly in the middle of her second trimester. And beyond mood swings and cravings that she steadfastly refused to admit she was feeling, she had begun to develop a sort of bond that she had never spoken about out loud, but had kept her up at night, staring at this part of her that wasn't ever really supposed to be a part of her.

"Well... if he turns you back, yes," Sanji said slowly. "There's no equivalent organ in a male body to support her..."

He let that trail off. It was the sword of Damocles in the room, and both of them knew very well if she chose to become a man again, that the developing child would die.

"But something to balance out the hormones making you so moody shouldn't hurt her. After all, he knows what he's doing with hormones."

"I... don't want to hurt her..." For all that she hated the body she'd been born in, she couldn't deny the little one a chance at life. "I know we haven't talked about it... I can't just kill her. It... it isn't her fault. What happened. Ruthless to my enemies I may be, but no child deserves that. I can't..."

"You wanted Iva to change you back before…"

"That's because I thought he must be mistaken! Not because I wanted to-!"

"Oh. So that's why he was so pissed with you."

"...yes."

He breathed a little sigh of relief. "That's- that's good to know. Thank you for saying that. It's nobody's fault, but I agree. She shouldn't have to pay for our mistake." He stroked the side of her face and sighed. "Now... why is kissing and cuddling forbidden enough to upset you so?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She shook her head. "Nothing ever changes. So it's pointless to discuss it."

"Don has proven startlingly obedient to you in recent weeks. Perhaps discussing it is exactly what is needed," he pointed out.

"He wouldn't understand. He's a creature of habit. He's always going to be restless, and I can't give him what he needs. Especially right now. Before you, in this body, I was a virgin." Her tone was resigned, and she amused herself, distracted herself, by calling a small _Sables_ in the palm of her hand. It was weak, and almost gentle, but she could do it in spite of both seastone and pregnancy draining her energy, which was the point. "I suspect less than a week before he'll have bedded every interested person in this place, male or female or anywhere in between. It's just what he does."

Sanji frowned, trying to digest all this. "...You might still want to talk to him. I'm certain you're his first choice- but perhaps he has reasons for not coming to you? I can't imagine if you outright asked him not to that he'd go ahead and do it."

"Asking him to not do it would be like asking you not to cook." She rolled her eyes at him. "No, I just need to busy myself somehow. Find something to do with my time so that I'm not tripping over him doing it."

Sanji winced. "That's not the way to deal with your problems, Crocodile. And you know it. At least bring it up to tell him to get a room."

She bit back the comment she wanted to make, but it danced in her eyes, the threat that if he pushed further she'd say it. "I am fine."

"You aren't," he asserted. "You _need_ to talk to him," he pushed.

"Right," She glared, "The way you talked to your swordsman before they caught him."

She was grateful that her size wasn't enough to hinder her ability to get up yet, because she surged to her feet and didn't even give the Strawhat chef a chance to respond, she stormed out of their alcove, heading for her own. It was a low blow. She knew it, but was too prideful to actually say she was sorry. Everyone knew Roronoa Zoro was being held in a solitary cell at the bottom of the prison, so far down that the water pressure outside made the wall creak and groan ominously. They'd seen him, chained to the floor the way rabid elephants were, needles embedded in his back to cut off the nerves that controlled his large muscle groups. No one knew if they even fed him, and worse... the security level on him was such that even the Pipe Crew couldn't get to him. He was part of why they were waiting. And thinking about it had Croc wrapping her arms around herself as she ducked beyond her own curtain.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** Thanks, Ezra, for the wonderful comments. Honestly, it's reviews that keep me interested in posting stuff. If y'all like it, you need to tell me, otherwise I feel like I'm wasting your time posting stuff you don't wanna read.

* * *

Don was there, curled up in the nest of blankets and dozing in the warmth, but at her entrance he woke, and sleepily raised his head. Something felt… off. Strange. Distressed? He flicked his string-sight back on and sat up, sweeping for her.

"...Alex?"

She froze, not ready to do this yet. "Oh." She looked away. "I thought you were busy with Bellamy."

"Nah. We finished sparring a while ago. Like I thought, it'll be weeks 'til I'm in shape again. Baby stretches for the next week, from the pull in my ligaments." He turned on his side, still unhappy about that. "He updated me on a buncha things and then I sent him off to get food and came back here. The heat from the pipes will keep me from being as sore tomorrow. And why didn't you tell me the Plumber's here?!"

"Ah. It hadn't come up. She joined up with the Pipe Crew, as ironic as that is." She shifted from foot to foot, looking about the alcove with a certain unspoken something that she obviously didn't want to show on the surface. "So, he's coming back here, is he?"

"Hm? Oh, no. He'll go back to his own after he eats, I assume. But when he told me he skipped breakfast I had to scold him and give him Captain's orders to eat," Don yawned, snuggling deeper in the blankets. "Hm. Heh. Heh heh. Fufufufufu! The Plumber's in the Pipe crew," he giggled, finding that incredibly hilarious.

She relaxed by a margin and looked between the door and the bed, as if debating what she wanted to do. "You won't... um... promise me you won't bring them back here. Do what you want, just don't do it here."

He made quiet noises of confusion. "Ngh? Of- alright, of course, if you want me to. But... who am I not bringing back here? What am I not supposed to do?"

"The others. I know you'll be going after them. Especially as you get your flexibility back. All I ask is that you don't bring them back here. Treat this better than you ever treated my office."

He sighed, rolling onto his back. "Yeah, no problem. That'd be a pretty dick move after all. In the meantime, what I do myself is totally allowed in here right?"

"What do you mean?"

She sensed that she'd said something wrong, and as much as she wanted to remain standing, her ankles and the nerve that ran down the back of her leg said otherwise. So, she gave in and sat on the bed next to him.

He curled closer around her hips. "When I do those kinds of things for myself. Which, once I'm flexible enough again, I'm so gonna do. Those are allowed in here right?"

"I suppose." She was tense. As loathe admitting it as she was, she knew Sanji was right, and it made her grumble under her breath for a moment, before blurting, "Do you have to?"

"Do it for myself? Well no, but it's kinda worth the resulting backache."

Well, it was out there. She might as well talk about it, "No, I mean at all. Do you have to take others? Do you have to go after them?"

"Oh! Well. Probably not." He rolled onto his stomach, stroking his beardless chin thoughtfully. "But I would probably have to find my own alcove, and I really don't want to do that. After a while, I get irritable, snappish. Unless I jerk off like ten times a day." He shrugged. "Not a big deal. I can take care of myself well enough."

She deflated. It always came down to that. "Yeah. No, I understand. It's what you have to do. Forget I said anything. I told the cook this was a stupid idea."

"I don't _have_ to. It's just more comfortable," he corrected simply. "I can easily hold off." He leaned up and kissed her cheek.

"No. I don't want you to go out of your way, make yourself uncomfortable for me. I've never expected you to change and I'm not about to start now. So, it doesn't matter. Do what you like. Just don't bring it home where I have to put up with it." She gripped the bed, the increase in her breathing and heart rate betraying her that she was lying.

He sat all the way up and took her jaw in both hands- like Sanji did, and yet, so, so very different. His hands were so much bigger, warm from the metal bed and the pipes, and the raised and dotted skin of callous and scar tissue on them pressed a long-familiar pattern into her skin as he pressed his lips to hers. Chaste, gentle, sweet, and only lasting a second or two, it was the first time he'd braved her wrath to kiss her in this form. He also planned it to be the only time he did so.

He smiled lovingly when he parted from her, the busted lens he refused to cast off catching a stray bit of light and twinkling.

"What I like is making you happy. So you shush about that 'don't go out of your way' nonsense. Abstinence isn't _that_ hard, y'know."

"D-don't." She whispered, clinging to sanity with the death grip of her namesake, "Don't tease me, Don. Lie to me, cheat on me, betray me a thousand times, but don't, don't ever hold that sort of thing in front of me and not mean it. Don't you dare."

He huffed. "Of course I mean it, silly. You know I wouldn't offer it if I didn't mean it. If you want this relationship to be a closed one- I can do that. And if I ever get to a point where I don't think I can anymore, I'll talk to you first."

"You've... you've never been okay with this before. Why now?"

She was relishing the touch on her skin, and she didn't open her eyes or move from the position she'd been in when he kissed her. As though she felt that if she moved everything would shatter around her and what she was being offered would turn out to be something far more vicious than anything that had happened between them before.

"Because you indicated you want it from me," he replied simply. "Before, you've always been so dead-set against changing me- which I appreciate, don't get me wrong, one of the many things I adore about you is that you're smart enough to know you can't 'fix' or 'change' another person by force- that you've never asked, or indicated, you'd prefer I not play with anyone else at all. Now you've made your preference clear."

She took a deep breath, "At least... while we're here, and it's in my face, and I have nothing to bury myself in to ignore it. Are you sure you can do that?"

Her instincts told her not to believe him, that she'd only be hurt and disappointed, because that's all she ever was when she asked for someone to give her something. If she took it by force, she knew she could obtain it, control it, ensure it, but when she asked. When she truly wanted something. The answer had always, ever, been no. She didn't think Don understood exactly what he was offering, but her heart was too tired from the ups and downs to guard against it. She was quivering again, holding onto the very edges of her control, and still unable to look at him for fear of losing that precious margin.

"Yes. As long as you don't forbid self-pleasure, because if I can't even do that I would probably crack in two days," he added with a little chuckle. "And maybe you give me a kiss once in a while?" He knew he could do it, but if she'd give him those two things it would make doing it infinitely easier.

"Kiss you?" She sounded lost, and she blinked at him. "Why would you want to kiss me? I'm hideous."

It was his turn to blink. "...Alex," he said as patiently as he possibly could. "_I'm_ supposed to be the blind one."

"No, you're supposed to be the one that will fuck anything with a sentient mind," her brows drew together and she curled away from him a little. "Though maybe being blind is part of it. I am soft in places I should not be soft. I have things I shouldn't, and don't have what I should. My hair wants to do this thing where it gets into my face, and don't get me started on the pregnancy, because that just makes things worse! I'm a bloated caricature of what I am supposed to look like, how could you _possibly_ want to kiss me?!"

"Because you're you. Your hair has always gotten into your face, that's why you grease it back," he pointed out. "It's from how dry it gets thanks to your fruit and you know it. Sure, you're a bit softer in odd places, with a little extra skin and a little more cushioning here and there, but it's not like that's going to disgust me. And so what, you don't have a dick? You don't want sex, so it only matters insofar as you have to sit down to pee right now. As for the pregnancy..."

His hands slid down her body, skimming her sensitive breasts to rest both warm palms on her stomach.

"There's a tiny little life inside there. And it's going to be strong and beautiful, just like its Papi. And possibly like its daddy, if those genes show up. There is absolutely no reason I would want you any less."

"...she." Croc murmured, leaning minutely into his arms.

"Oooh, you know it's a girl already? I'm sure she'll grow up just as ruthless as Papi," he purred, leaning in and pecking her cheek.

"That's... that's how I knew you were... I saw... with Bellamy... I was coming to tell you. Law said she's healthy, if underfed... but you were there, and he was curled up on top of you, and... I owe Sanji an apology." She sagged against him, suddenly exhausted from everything. "And I don't not want sex. I just know if I tried, you'd split me in half."

He nodded. "Ah. With Bel, I'm wary of his inability to tell me 'no'. All we did was have one kiss and a little snuggling. And there is such a thing as femdom and pegging, you realize? But if the baby is a little underfed..." He frowned, head tipping back to stare at the ceiling while he considered and turned possibilities over in his mind for a few moments. "...We needa talk to the puppy and her Plumber."

"I _know_ all you did was snuggle with him. That's the point." She growled, ignoring the rest of it.

He blinked. "...Ok now I'm confused again."

She looked up at him, "If I'm not hideous, why am I not enough?"

His frown returned. "...why would you think you're not enough?"

"Because you go running after all the others. I..." She hiccupped, trying to swallow it down, reject it, deny it. "I've never... never been enough."

He tilted his head. "Well... yes. You are. I just didn't want to smother you- after three or four rounds you get sore, and after about three hours of snuggling you go numb in places. You're totally enough- but you'd suffer for it. That's why I've always spread myself around, so nobody gets overwhelmed or hurt."

It always came back to that, Croc's stamina versus Don's. She looked away, sighing, "That's why I said it didn't matter. Just... forget I brought it up."

He made dissenting noises immediately, catching her chin with his hand. "No, no, it does matter. It matters to you." He dropped a kiss on her cheek. "I can do it."

"It's never mattered before, and I don't know that it won't matter again as soon as my mind stops acting like I'm insane all of the time." She huffed.

He shrugged. "That will be then. This is now, and it matters right now." He snuggled himself back into the blankets, pulling her closer. "We can make it work."

In spite of herself, the sand user curled up on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. After a while, she broke the silence, "Mr. Prince wants to kick your ass for earlier."

"And I want to kick Mr. Prince's ass for getting you pregnant," he replied dryly. "So we're even."

"He didn't do it on purpose." Croc rolled her eyes.

"Don't care. He touched you, I want to break both his legs and bend his knees backwards," he growled, the sound coming up out of the bottom of his chest.

"Don. If he hadn't we'd have both been killed." She sat up, glaring at him. "Don't make me have to fight between you to keep you from attacking each other. I may get jealous, but I _never_ actually go after any of your playthings, regardless of circumstances."

"Which is why the man continues to live now," he sighed, tilting his head back. "I'll not fight him- not on that count. No matter how much I want to."

His hand stroked through her hair idly.

She wasn't satisfied; it was a burr under her scales, irritating and unreachable. "You don't understand. You weren't here. No powers. No hook. In the wrong body. They thought I was a playtoy! Something to be shoved against a wall and fucked until they were through with me, regardless of my opinion on the matter. I couldn't _do_ anything, in spite of towering over several of them. They had tasers. I'm a logia user, Don, do you know when the last time I actually felt pain without my sand protecting me!? But he was there. He got into their ranks somehow, tricked them into thinking that if he took me while the others watched I'd somehow be cowed and they'd finally get somewhere with me. He made them stop, Don. He stood between them and me. Promised me he'd get me here, and get back my body. So I let him. Put on a good show for the audience and let him take me. The _bambina_ was an accident! _He's not the bad guy here!_"

"I know he's not," he said quietly, and though he wasn't shouting this time there was a strange sense of seething rage, roiling just beneath his skin. "But I can't go after the real evil until Strawhat makes his move, and until we get his first mate free..." His molars ground against each other. "And the only one I can reach isn't the real bad guy but he's the only one in reach and even though I know he's not the person deserving of it, my anger focuses on him anyway because he's available."

His fingers twitched. When they moved forward, when he was free to pursue them—

He wouldn't even give them the dignity of his strings.

"Promise me you won't hurt him." The expectant woman kneeled on his arm, her teeth still bared. _"Promise me!"_

Something in Don, way down deep in his gut, in his chest, cracked straight down the middle and shattered. Something he hadn't even known was fragile and vulnerable. But all it took was that one demand, and it broke.

Because Croc knew, _knew_ how he was about his promises. A promise was as binding as a band of seastone around his neck; once he'd given his word he would not break it for anything on pain of death. Crocodile had never, NEVER asked him for a promise.

And she didn't even ask it on her own behalf.

But he was skilled- very, very skilled- at hiding what hid in the darkest corners of his soul, and there wasn't so much as a flicker of any of it across his face. In his eyes, there might have been- something- but he had his glasses on from the spar.

His expression was perfectly smooth as he tilted his head to the side in obedience to her will.

"Alright. I promise that I will not hurt Mr. Prince, also known as Blackleg Sanji of the Strawhats. I promise you that I will not bring harm upon that man." And his voice- not flat, because he knew that would be a dead giveaway- was soft and solemn.

"Thank you." She wilted, and moved back.

Some part of her must have known what she'd done, because she didn't lay back down to cuddle. She drew her knees up and rubbed the one she'd used on him like she'd been cut. There was even a fine line of red in her skin through a hole in her pants. It wasn't broken, but it looked like she'd been kneeling on wire for a while. She was uneasy, and she swallowed nervously. Call it instinct, or intuition, or some long forgotten memory that she couldn't quite grasp but felt the effects of nonetheless, but a knot of fear had been tied in her stomach that she couldn't ignore.

"Think... I think I'm gonna go get a drink." Her tongue trilled the R and she stood unsteady on her feet, her eyes on Don the whole time as she left the alcove.

"I'll just... be here," he replied a bit lamely.

He suddenly felt peculiarly... unraveled. He swallowed, throat feeling thick and uncooperative. He felt so very strange, he felt...

Hollowed out inside.

Empty.

Cold.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews, minna! Sorry I haven't been updating, I've a hard time remembering to do it here now that things are really taking off over of Ao3. Anyway, here you go! Sorry about the wait! Enjoy~!

* * *

"Don?" Crocodile called tentatively, before she opened the curtain.

The sight that greeted her was expected, but no less painful than it had been the first time. Nothing. No note, no feathers, no wrinkles in the blankets. Nothing. Not a single sign that her other heart was anywhere near or had been since she'd left hours ago. Almost two weeks, and the sand user had begun spending more and more time with the sire of her child even if they didn't have the same relationship. Or any relationship really. Just so she could be not alone. Law didn't approve. He scowled more when she went in for her checkups, but he said nothing about it. There was an air of something having happened, but no one spoke about it. She offered nothing and the others didn't press her.

She sat on the bed, leaning back on her hand with her stump resting on her belly. There were few bigger than her so most of the time over the course of the last fourteen days, she'd begun wearing a modified haramaki, made from one of her own shirts with the sleeves added to the girth for room to grow. She pushed this down and rubbed a sore spot with the underside of her arm. She wished she could comfortably reach her feet, and she groaned when she lay back against the pillows so she could prop up the aching appendages, minus her shoes.

She was silent for a while, just existing in the place between pain and the steadily increasing strength of movement from her midsection. Then she gave in, satisfied that no one was going to follow her, or that anyone was listening.

It started as a whimper, and became a keen as rain coursed over her face. She rolled onto her side, clutching a pillow that was in no way a substitute for what she truly wanted, but it was pink, and that was what mattered about it. She began to mutter to herself between ragged breaths.

"What have I done? What have I done? Chased him away. Too clingy. Too needy. Too much. Not good enough. Never good enough... just come home... please? I... need you... I can't do this alone... Please Donny... come home..."

And then the bed heaved beneath her.

There was a clatter, a bang of pipes against each other, and there was the sensation of something powerful hitting against the metal sheet that served as a bed platform, followed by a low curse in a faintly Germanic-sounding language- a language only one man in this prison spoke!

The part of the blanket that hung over the edge of the bed to hide the pipes beneath shoved outward as a long-fingered hand thrust out of it, and the whole bed heaved again while said hand was joined by the second and found finger-holds in the floor to haul on until a familiar head of blond hair popped out into the open, followed quickly by a long line of scarred back, arching to pop the joints as he emerged in full.

"'ut 'appen," he slurred, clearly still half-asleep as he dragged his legs out, "oo's 'urt?"

He was also stark naked.

"AH!" She screamed, and then screamed again when he was revealed. "AHH!"

She clutched the blanket to her as though she as the one exposed and her eyes kept darting from nude lover to the edge of the bed and back again, getting caught each time on the one thing that _really_ made him stand out from other men.

He knuckled at his eyes and yawned, still positioned between her and the door, though not really by design, as he swept out his strings and came up empty, except for her. All things were as it should be, so why was he awake...?

He spread his legs and leaned over until he could grab hold of the arch of his foot, bent practically in half as he stretched out the tight muscles and hamstrings. Being all crunched up between the pipes was hard on his legs especially, since they were positioned awkwardly AROUND said pipes and not in between them. So he did his morning cursory stretches before he stood up and cracked his back, skin still humming with warmth of the pipes- and though he couldn't see it, bright, burning red from the heat, pressed all over his body where he had been pushed against the pipes. He didn't have any physical burns, but there were very clear, VERY red impressions wherever he'd touched a pipe.

She took all of that in with a certain horrified confusion, a ball of anger and pain wadded in her midsection somewhere above the baby. It bubbled and it roiled, churning until finally it spewed from her lips in what was almost the same decibel as the Strawhat navigator, _"WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!?"_

He rubbed his eyes again, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

"Flexibility training in the gym, food scrounging, and under the bed," he said around another yawn.

"Two weeks you've been missing. No one said anything about seeing you. Missed meals. Sanji nearly had an apoplectic fit when you didn't turn up after a day. And I won't even go into what we've been through while you were gone. Do you even know how much you've been missed, you... you... you... I DON'T EVEN HAVE THE WORDS FOR WHAT YOU ARE!" She was sobbing, all of that hurt and anger that had been turned inward, exploded out at him. Uncontrolled and unfettered.

He sighed, reaching forward and running his fingers through her hair once, twice, before crouching down and fishing his clothes out from under the bed and getting dressed. It hurt to see her so upset, of course it did, it upset him to have caused her such distress—

But it was curiously muted. Distant. Like he was drugged or something. Everything felt very quiet and very unreal.

"Mmmm. Didn't figure it'd been that long. Sorry. Been sorting something out."

And judging by the haze still clinging to everything in his perception, he hadn't quite gotten it under control or figured out at all, but he supposed he couldn't work on it any longer.

Dressed now, he sat back down and pulled her into his chest.

She fought him, pushing at his hands and his chest. She didn't want to be cuddled. She wanted to stop hurting. Everything since she'd been arrested, since the hormones that made her male had started wearing off, everything hurt! She was so tired of hurting! But she was also uncoordinated, sleep deprived, underfed, and blurred with tears she couldn't stop. So, her efforts were futile, ending in her just collapsing against him. Were she more together she'd have picked up on the distance consciously, but she didn't, so what she felt was unconscious, and it only added to the ball of pregnancy-fueled-insanity that she'd been holding back for two weeks while he was gone. She was hurting, he was _wrong_, and she couldn't fix it, or herself. So she did the only thing her body would let her do. She cried.

He didn't try to soothe her out of it, he didn't start shushing her or trying to get her to stop- he was very certain she needed this cry as a release valve the same way he needed kisses. Well, when he wasn't feeling so... peculiar anyway. So instead he rocked her, slowly and softly, petting her hair and murmuring soft encouragements.

His own head bowed over hers, glasses sliding down, eyes aimlessly unfocused. When she returned to her senses, that would be one of the clearest warning signs for her- he'd turned off his string sight and wasn't turning it back on. He couldn't muster up the willpower to waste his energy on it- he could not feel the fear which had originally spurred him to learn to use his strings like that in the first place.

For now of course, he pushed the glasses back into place and hummed soft assurances into her hair, refusing to let her pull away before she was utterly cried out.

She fell into a fitful sleep before she was fully finished, her body just didn't have the energy to support all of that stress on top of growing the new person. So she lost consciousness before any harm could come to either herself or her child. The images of her dreams had her twitching though, clutching reflexively at his shirt and whimpering, curled up into a tight ball protecting her middle. Behind her eyelids, she was alone again, raging against the bars of a cell, and a taunting voice echoed through her mind, 'he doesn't want you anymore, he never did'.

When she was asleep, he rearranged things, picking her up and holding her in his arms as he settled more comfortably on the bed and nested them both down into the blankets, tucking Croc up under his chin until he could turn her head to put his heart beneath her ear. Its beat was a slow, steady drum, and snuggled up with her, he was soon dozing off again himself, legs tangling up in hers and hands lacing the fingers over her stomach lightly.

She woke slowly, drained and feeling heavy. Warm, for the first time in fourteen and a half days—she'd counted—and the steady thump of his heartbeat under her ear. She rolled her head up to look at him, watch him. The exhaustion on his face, plain through the guise of sleep, stabbed her in ways that she had no guard against.

The sand user curled up tighter to him, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Sleeping soundly, after all he had the person he most cared for with him now, he shifted a bit at the sound of her voice, but when no other sound was forthcoming settled again without waking. Of course, that made his ribs poke sharply into her soft torso- which they should _not_ have. He said he'd been making food runs- but how often, and where on earth was he getting it if not from Sanji? And if he'd gone to Sanji, the cook would DAMN well have told Croc!

She drew her hand across that span, counting the bones with her fingers. She had a layer of padding around hers now. All over really, a result of needing to nourish the life that depended on her, though she was still underweight. She watched his breath, unable to sleep any longer, though more tired than she had ever been. The press of decades of dancing around the truth, carrying the burden of her station alone, and keeping up the façade of the uncaring, aloof, greedy, crime lord; it all hung over her like a thunderstorm on the horizon, held at bay by sunny weather and hot air, but now... after so much, she felt herself buckling, giving in to the weight of it all, and finding a lack of concern that it should all fall around her into a million tiny pieces that she could never put back together. She wondered then, if she'd ever feel like herself again, instead of a broken marionette, tucked under the chin of a boy who couldn't do anything but play with dolls.

"What have I done to you? I don't... I don't understand." She murmured, "My mind... it... it fails me. I can't... remember things. You'd disappeared and I panicked. Certain I would lose the details of your face if I couldn't see them every day. It's hard to imagine sunshine, and wind, though Sanji compares me to it every chance he gets. I don't... know what I did. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry that I don't know too."

He shifted again, the powerful, if diminished, muscle moving beneath her hand until his covered hers and ran up her arm until it reached her neck to cup her chin- the way he had when he'd first been shackled and was helpless and blind.

"Don' worry s'much," he managed, yawning and slowly sitting up. "S'not good fer ya. M'right here. Never wandered far."

And he hadn't. He'd never been further away from their alcove in the past two weeks than the training room, where his faithful Plumber had delivered to him what food she managed to sneak on her own when not helping the rest of the Pipe Crew pull stuff off. He'd asked her because she didn't ask questions, but she didn't short-shrift anyone else either in her pursuit of her task. In Don's math, what she'd been able to bring him on her own was even smaller of portions than what he'd have been able to get if he'd been eating at Sanji's table, and since that was one more bit of portion going onto the plates of the others, as far as Don was concerned it evened up.

He was still very much broken inside- he couldn't fix it, and he had tried. So he continued to be numb, because he was needed and couldn't afford to degenerate in his own twisted emotions.

She followed him into a seated position, and studied him. "They're breaking the swordsman out soon. The other admirals have been caught, though... something..." She frowned in the manner of the easily frustrated, trying to remember, and failing, "Akainu... I don't... it was there, I know it was! I had it. Just yesterday I had it. Catalogued and organized to tell you when you ever came back. All the details of what has happened since you left. But... it's just... not there." She sounded defeated, forced into a corner and with no way out of it.

"Ah. I've heard tell of that. Call it pregnancy brain," Don said with a knowing nod. "You ain't talked t'Ivankov yet, 'ave ya?"

She shook her head, looking down at her hand, still splayed across his chest. She'd let her hair grow, unable to cut it actually, and it was plaited down the back of her head with a gentle weave that actually gave the illusion of feathers from above.

He clicked his tongue. "Oh my poor beloved. C'mon. We're seeing Ivankov about these out of control hormones right now. I can't imagine he can't regulate them without harming the baby." He leaned up and pecked her cheek, a lopsided smile managing to slink onto his face. "Why didn't you go?"

"I don't want to go out there. They see me like this and I have no respect any longer. Waddling around like some duck with an egg. How am I to be the fearsome warlord they used to see me as, if all they picture is this? Don't make me go?" She chanced a look up at him, and bit her lip. Damn those sunglasses.

His expression softened and this time he stole one from her lips. "Alright. I'll bring him here then."

She nodded, and kissed him back, clinging to his shirt. Then she slid from his lap, as much as she didn't want to, and let him get up to go get the Okama king. She would have said something like 'come back soon', or 'don't be long', but her pride, shattered as it was, clung to her mouth to keep her from sounding any more needy than she already was.

He gave a smile- and it seemed slightly off center, like he was only aware of his general direction and not exactly aware of where she stood- before disappearing through the curtain, taking a familiar path and following the distinctive hormone-pheromone cocktail stench of the Okama King.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** As some of you may know I had to have carpal tunnel surgery at the beginning of March, so I just got my stitches out, here's hoping I can get back on track with updating.

* * *

It was a bit convoluted and mashed up though, once he'd stepped through the barrier. Everyone in the rebellion was milling about, chattering and hefting homemade weapons; extra pipes, a pair of scorched frying pans, sharpened broom handles, plastic broken off at a forty-five degree angle, and one sword, carefully concealed in a purple cane—though its owner was nowhere to be found. The puppetmaster's target was bouncing about on stage, flipping back and forth shouting "HEE HAW!" at the top of his voice, while the son of Dragon had his game face on. A ripple of Haki brought everyone to silence, and it held, heavy, and seeming to draw the crowd in...

Then he pumped his fist into the air, the rattle of seastone around his arm, and shouted, "LET'S GO!"

The impressive figure of Blueno appeared with a door that led down a hallway that was FAR too dark to be safe, and the mob surged through it, clamoring their weapons and yelling at the tops of their voices. The sounds of light, ice, smoke, and other powerful Devil Fruits echoed through the chaos, indicating that even if they'd been some of the last brought in, the admirals and high ranked soldiers from the marines had no trouble adjusting to life with seastone. This was war, and Don had returned just in time for it to happen.

The former shichibukai faced a crossroads, made all the more difficult by their recent separation: go back and tell her, or take his place among the fighters?

She would want to join them. Her sand was almost invaluable, impossible to match. Her planning skills flawless, when not under the influence of her hormones like this. But...

It only took him one second. But he turned, blew a kiss at the curtain he'd just come from behind, and advanced with the rest. He couldn't afford to waste time persuading her to stay behind, and...

Well…

When it came down to the wire, if there was a choice to risk her safety or his own...

Don's choice would _always_ be to risk his own…

Child or not.

Little did the flamingo know that from the shadows he was watched. Silent paws, and even more silent thoughts, the figure slipped beneath the curtain behind him. It was time.

What the army met on the other side of Blueno's door was a collaboration of the most rugged, ruthless, mundane pirates the Strawhats had ever seen. The trouble with them was that for every five Lucci clawed down, or dozen that fell to the shots of blinding light Borsalino threw, or even the battalion that choked to death, lost in the body of the White Hunter himself, there were always more coming. Power flew everywhere. A Gomu Gomu no Pistol sent a body into Shambles which brought the pieces around to be rampaged between giraffe and tyrannosaurus rex. In short, it was a brawl, a messy free-for-all that had everyone throwing their best at everyone who wasn't expecting it.

Somehow in the chaos, a blond body appeared next to Don's head, mid-Sky Walk, on fire and actually smoking for once, "Luffy is clearing a path to the door; we need you to break the lock. No one else has anything that can slice through metal and wood like your Razor Wire."

He pulled in all his 'nets', just having cleared them of their allies, and pulled them _through_ his captives with one quick yank even as he turned. "Coming. The faster we get this done and them to safety, the better!"

Sanji Sky-Walked over the heads of people in the midst of fighting others. Kid threw a sword, which gave him a perch for a moment. Then Capone fired a cannon ball, which gave him another. On and on until they reached the most fortified door either had ever seen. The chef landed on the stone facing the on-coming marines and guards.

"I have your back, just get my boyfriend out. Call it an eye for an eye if it makes you feel better about it."

Don couldn't even muster up a giggle. Normally he would have at the 'eye for an eye' comment, considering his eyes were useless unless he was employing his strings. But he wrapped every nuance of the lock in razor wires and yanked. It wasn't easy, he had to even saw it back and forth a bit, but once it dropped, he reached up and yanked the whole door open.

Inside was the swordsman, and he wasn't looking up at the sound of fighting, he wasn't straining to get out- and for a moment, Don was afraid he was dead- but he curled in his knees, hiding his face and eyes from the light. And he was shaking. Confused, Don peered around the room to try and figure out why.

Across the tiny stone room, partially hidden in shadow now that the light sources had changed, there was a pile of bones. Only bones. Salt-encrusted, and crumpled. The only characteristic that separated that particular pile of bones from any other broken skeleton... partially ripped away from the skull... a large, though limp and water-stiffened, afro in tight black curls that clung to the skull's cheekbones like inky tears from the sockets.

Don realized it for what it was and his heart stopped. No, nononono it couldn't be, it HAD to be something else- but the way Zoro was shaking and whining softly, he did know, and it was exactly what he was afraid of.

Don broke Zoro's bindings with a bit more razor wire and forced him to shaky feet. "Get it together, swordsman."

Zoro sagged, would have fallen if Don hadn't held him; Don slapped him as sharply as he possibly could.

"GET YOURSELF TOGETHER, ZORO," he bellowed, making the green-head cringe. "His spirit wandered fifty years, unfettered to anything, before he found his way back to his bones. Do you understand me?!" He shook him. "Scrub off the salt and he can come back, but first, your crew and your captain need you! Take him with you, tuck him into your haramaki- but get yourself together and GO!"

Blinking like a man just coming awake, Zoro did seem to understand, however faintly.

"Can- can still-" He stumbled to the pile of bones, but Don yanked his arm and pushed him outside.

"I'll take care of him- go to your fucking Captain!"

Zoro could only stagger onward, certain he'd collapse if he tried to turn, leaving the pink menace to collect up Brook in the softness of his coat and emerge with his razor wire braided into a whip he wielded expertly one-handed.

The battle raged on, Bison and Reindeer, Wolf and Hornet, Ice and Wax, Blade and Spine, and a thousand other different combinations of people clearing through what was starting to become the final push to get out instead of just the rescue operation it had appeared to be on the surface. Hundreds of Devil Fruit supporters, users of Haki, Fishmen, a couple of giants, joined the ranks as others broke open cells that had either been too well guarded or simply inaccessible from the shadows.

Then a sound of machinery coming together accompanied the cry of, "SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPER ME!"

With the help of one magnetism master the cyborg's parts flew from various different cells in a ring around the eighth floor. He pulled off a double front somersault and posed, bikini bottoms and all, in front of an imposing man. He had a thick mask over his face and _very_ familiar blades in his hands. As soon as Franky stopped moving the man's arm flashed out and a shockwave bounced through the magnetic energy. The cyborg, only being held together that way, fell to the ground, his head bouncing several times before being caught by his wife's phantom appendages.

"Oi! Not super!" He glared; even his nose button was missing.

"This will stop. Now."

The man's voice was almost toneless, as he stepped forward, his blades at the ready. A heavy ring of keys hung from his belt and bounced against his thigh, glinting in the dungeon lights.

"Who the fuck—"

Kid had turned, because he felt his power being fucked with, but when he did he stopped breathing for a moment. He stopped because he was suddenly hit with a punch to the gut that stole everything from him for a few seconds, because he was sure, absolutely positive, this would never have happened.

For what man expects a Nakama to betray him on such a scale as this?

"...Killer."

"I'm sorry, Captain. You all must return to your cells for further re-education." The former first-mate stepped forward again, and this time the badge of warden could clearly be seen on his suit. "Attempts to resist will be met with swift ramifications."

Kid crossed his arms over his chest. "...I dunno what they did to ya," he said slowly. "I dunno what they said, er th' arguments they used, er what points they made, er what they've dosed ya with. But I know you're fuckin' smarter than this." He hoped it was some sort of ploy, that he wasn't really ready to face off against his Captain, his best friend…

But he knew Killer, and the way he was talking now gave him the sinking feeling that he was dead serious.

"I'm sorry, Captain. The world has changed. Devil Fruits must be eliminated. Go back to your cells."

The long blond hair, once wild and free like the mane of a lion, was tightly bound into a braid from the edge of Killer's helmet down, and as he slipped into a ready stance, blade brought up for lightning fast reflexes, there was an almost eerie silence about him. Something like the sound of death. Except for a small, minute jingle, from somewhere hidden. His tone, his posture, his actions, everything spoke of just how intent he was on either being obeyed or shedding blood. But why would a captor apologize to his captives?

And if things were as they seemed…

_Why was he still calling him Captain?_

"Well, smartass, one problem. Or more accurately, one thousand." He gestured to the chaos all around them. "An' of course, the lil issue of goin' back to the cells ta fuckin' DIE. Re-education? More like 'how ta die in misery'. An' you're smarter than this, Killer. The Devil Fruits ain't never gonna STOP existin'. They'll just reappear again an' fall inta hands probably worse'n ours, or worse yet, be hoarded by the Marines an' World Government ta distribute t'those they see fit so they can terrorize th'populace from New World t'the Four Blues, win the war against Pirates entirely in the New World and turn th'whole of our world inta a festerin' cesspit cowerin' under the heel of the Celestial Fuckin Tyrannies themselves!"

He appealed to Killer's reason first because he was his Nakama, his brother, and because logic had been the only thing other than good rough bloodlust that mattered to Killer above almost everything but their own brotherly bond. And he did so before he actually engaged him because, for once in his life, he did not want to fight.

"I'm sorry, Captain." That time it seemed strained, "As I said the world has changed. The war is no longer against pirates. The war is against Devil Fruits and those that sympathize with them. As we speak there is a team of scientists working to destroy Devil Fruits entirely. Though it will be none of your concern, especially if you do not return to your cells at once."

The warden swung as if to hit, though the arc was wide and clearly more for show than actual damage. Anyone who knew Killer knew that the hit was faked, but there was surveillance that the Pipe Crew couldn't take down all over this hallway and the entire level in fact. There was no more time for talk, but then, before the red-haired supernova could respond an orange and white thing came streaking down the corridor, wailing at the top of his voice.

"I CAN'T DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The bear flopped to his belly at Law's feet, just off to the side from where Kidd and Killer were facing off. Tears poured down the ursine's face, and he clung to Law's jeans with desperation. "TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF CAPTAIN! MAKE IT STOP! I CAN'T! I CAN'T I CAN'T I CAN'T! CAPTAIN!"

Law collapsed to his knees to see his first mate, and Kid's magnetics sparked out of control even as he heard the surgeon asking, "Take what off, Bepo, what have they done to you?!"

Killer's blades dragged him back to the wall and trapped him there, metal pinned to metal shackle anchors, as Kid turned to the pink man. "Don, there's eyes we don't need down 'ere, gett'em!"

Don's strings swept the room, located the things they didn't want, the living things he knew the shape of well, and he started slicing them to ribbons.

"IT'S A THING! IN MY EAR! AHHHHHHHHHH! CAPTAIN IT HURTS!" The fur around his right ear began to change color, first pink and then darkening at an alarming rate.

Then Killer screamed, his hold on Kid released as he fell to the side clutching his head and ripping at his helmet. He was followed by Sarkies, Moji, Beckmann—even though his captain wasn't around where they could see the former Yonko, others who had at one point or another been held in individual cells but wielded no Devil Fruit, and finally Zoro gave a cry, shuddering at Luffy's side.

"Oi! Traffy! Fix it!" The rubberman couldn't seem to make sense of what was happening; only that apparently anyone who had at any time been named "first mate" among his fellows was infected with some kind of bug in his or her ear.

"ROOM!"

Law's time in the seastone and training room paid off- his Room spun out not only over Bepo, but every person in the room. A dozen strikes of his nodachi and the offending ears were floating before him. He started with Bepo's, as it was the largest, and cut it delicately in half with his scalpel, peeling it apart as he searched for the source of the pain.

Luffy floated, suspended because he'd been holding Zoro's ear at the time of the casting. He tried swimming but that did virtually nothing, especially as he didn't know how to coordinate to swim anyway. However, it did give him a unique perspective on the situation.

"Mah. Sanji. Are bugs meat?"

He held out a squirming centipede type creature with flashing orange jaws and a blinking red and green light on the end of its tail. It chittered and hissed like the static electricity from a transistor radio, and flailed its legs, wicked claws on each tip. Then it reached around and bit Luffy's thumb.

"OW!" The Pirate King whipped his hand, and the thing went flying, spasming and turning grey as it flew before shattering to dust against the wall. Luffy pouted, "I'm hungry."

Law found the little thing, genetically engineered no doubt, and extracted it from each and every ear- well, except Zoro's, Luffy had taken care of him. Each was crushed beneath his heel.

"I'm sure that after this, we should be able to get plenty to eat, Luffy," He said dryly as he crushed the last orange insect with a satisfying crunch and put the ears back to whom they belonged.

The first mates were groggy, the ones with actual damage holding their offended ears with a hand. Bepo was still in tears, clinging to his captain and babbling about how they were supposed to be spies and he'd agreed because it was less painful, but it really, really wasn't, and he just couldn't do it! Killer, his mask off, kept his eyes on the floor, saying nothing. A small trickle of blood ran down the curve of his earlobe, but he made no move to wipe it away. His helmet he held between his hands and waited for his captain's judgment for his betrayal.

Law comforted Bepo while Kid regarded Killer with detachment.

He was silent a few long, tense seconds, then he sighed and spat. "You thought you could double-cross 'em, din'tcha? Didn't know they were gonna use some underhanded cheap bullshit like that bug." He kicked aside the remains of one and grinned at his first mate, reaching up and wiping away the blood on his ear. "I know ya'd choose death first unless ya thought ya could turn it back on 'em. Now help me round up this aimlessly confused lot an' get 'em back to safety where Chopper can check ya all."

Killer smirked, eyes lifting through the gold fringe. "Care for a boost, Captain?" He shifted the helmet to one hand and lifted the keys from his belt. "It was worth being implanted to obtain these."

Off to the side, Beckmann had shaken down another of the now-defeated guards, and procured a wrench and a supply of bolts, which were then put to good use by Iceburg and Paulie, with a few extra hands courtesy of Robin, to put Franky back together again. Muttered arguments between the adopted brothers of 'that doesn't go there' and 'shut up I know what I'm doing, Baka-nky' punctuated a general feeling of accomplishment that the rebellion had taken the prison. After all with the warden as part of their number, any remaining guard not loyal to the Pirate King were sure to soon be captured and taken care of.

Far away from the revelry of the former prison, one of the newly promoted admirals knelt in front of the massive desk, "Sir, they've taken Impel Down."

"Let them have it. We expected them to, did we not?" The Fleet Admiral leaned back in his chair, shadows and the light from outside glinting off his glasses obscured his features. "The prison is of no consequence. Make sure it's ready for when they arrive."

The admiral nodded and seemed to disappear in a flash of movement from the room.

"Rejoice now, Monkey D. Luffy. You have won a battle, but you will not win this war. Of that I am entirely certain."

A small puff of smoke accompanied maniacal laughter that ended in him coughing for a moment. He pounded his fist against his chest, revealing the glove he wore to be black against the white of his shirt sleeve. He cleared his throat and grunted, as if trying to regain his dignity.

"Vile stuff."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Not much to say this time, but I was updating the others, so here you go~!

* * *

Doflamingo wanted to crawl in beside his mate, cuddle down, and stay there for a year. But the moment he entered the shared alcove, he knew something was wrong. There was a scent that didn't belong here. A scent he wasn't familiar with.

He dropped into a crouch, a long hiss leaving him as he swept the room with strings and drew in the intruding scent on determining the intruder was gone. He took in the taste, the smell, the little nuances, then bounced to his feet and shook Crocodile. He didn't really want to wake her, but he had to make sure she was alright.

She blinked at him sleepily, mostly opening one eye with a disgruntled sort of noise. Her eyebrows drew together and she growled, pushing herself into a more upright position. "Back already? Thought you all would take longer."

"Got pissed," he explained shortly, frowning at her. "Who was here?"

He wasn't wearing his feathers, but if he had been, they'd be bristled. Still covered in blood (he had not been gentle with the guards and less so with the spying 'mushi), he was definitely still very much on edge.

Taking in the situation, Croc pulled the blanket over her a little closer and scooted back on the bed, the air in the room drying significantly in warning. "The Hellhound. Why? What's wrong?"

He turned his head, left, right, back again, and prowled, still crouched on all fours, along the floor, lips first pursing as he took in the smells in the air again, then opened his mouth to taste them as well.

"...don't know. Doesn't taste right. Can't pinpoint it." He rocked back on his heels a bit, frowning. "...could be nothing." There was just something prickling at him- he didn't know what, but whatever it was, the numbness had no effect on it and it goaded at him.

Maybe the fact that he'd left Croc unguarded for any length of time. Paranoia taking the place of the guilt he knew he felt but couldn't seem to experience the way he knew he should.

Turning off his strings, he tasted it again. "Oh! She must have—yes, that would do it."

"Do what?" The sand user growled, more agitated by the confusion than by anything Don was or wasn't actually doing. "Ever since you got back, you've made little to no sense."

"She must have turned off the 'acid-paw' thing she does that leaves the smell of ozone, that's why it smells so strange," he replied, slowly rising, relaxing again. "She's never done that for as long as I've known her, that's why it alarmed me I guess."

"Perhaps she thought it best if no one was able to detect her having been here? If you were looking for the most..." She coughed, uncomfortable and embarrassed, "the most vulnerable member of the army, wouldn't you go for the expectant first?"

"You're not vulnerable, or at least, not the MOST vulnerable. But you WERE asleep, and I should have set someone to be here just in case they tried sneak-attack retaliation before you woke up. I'm... glad she thought of it."

"Even asleep I am more deadly than many of the others in our army. Regardless she was a welcome presence. Now will you tell me why you're on edge? If you are back I assume you have recovered the swordsman." She huffed, a little too quick to declare how strong she still was, and leaned against the wall, folding her legs up under her.

"We... did, but..." He shuddered, remembering those horrid bugs. "The- the Marines... tampered... with our first mates. Or… Those of us who had those. The ones without Devil Fruits. The skeleton, too. I don't think he'll ever really recover."

He paced back and forth in the little space.

"I suspected they might when several of the crews turned up missing people even after all of the others had been recovered." She pulled a small box of blunt, paper-wrapped straws and tucked one into the corner of her mouth to chew on. "I'm also not surprised that they resorted to torture. The guards were not particularly kind souls, if you remember."

She gestured with the pseudo-cigar almost immediately and supported her right arm with her left under her chest. She had her 'thinking' face on, and she watched imaginary swirls of smoke, made slightly more real with a touch of power.

"There is more to this, I think, than what we have seen already, and far more to what you've said than what you are willing to admit. But no matter, I will discover what the secrets are in time. I always do."

He paused.

Started to grin.

"I forgot!"

He turned to Crocodile and kissed her, ignoring the straw just like he did when there was a real cigar there. "Names, my dear. I owe a few guards, who are now utterly unprotected by their warden, a little _visit_."

"I didn't exactly chitchat with them." She seemed a little put off by the sudden kiss. "One was sort of dirty. Brownish hair, thin and balding. He always came around with the same crew, so if you find him you'll probably find them all. Are you off to take care of that now?"

He looked at her over the upper rim on his glasses, eyes dilated, twinkling and excited. "Of course. All this blood I've got up has to go somewhere!"

"Somehow I don't think your lust will be sated by simply killing a few insolent brats, but by all means, have fun. Tear them to ribbons and make their families gift-wrapping paper out of their skins." She dismissed him with a hand and a strange light in her eye.

He gave a little pleased noise and kissed her again. "EXCELLENT idea, Croc! I think I'll send their dicks in the packages. Lord knows they won't be needing them," he sang before bouncing out of the room.

He still felt that curious detachment, but this was the closest he'd felt to his old self in two weeks.

As soon as the curtain fell, so did Croc's casual attitude. Something was wrong. Something with Don. Something... something broken. She couldn't put her finger on it, but for all that he looked like him, he didn't _feel_ like him. His strings vibrated her sand at the wrong frequency, and it made her nervous, brought up an uncomfortable churning feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't pin down on the pregnancy. Though she rather felt like her _bambina_ was the reason for it. She made her do things, say things, act in ways she'd never have acted before; stole her mental cohesion sometimes; and kept her from tapping into that confident, almost arrogant, swagger that Crocodile had projected since the days before she left her home island for the first time. It put her off, made her uncomfortable. It was why she and the Hellhound were meeting in secret, and Don could never find out what they were planning. He'd try to stop her.

While he was gone, and it took nearly the entire rest of what would be considered their "day", she ventured out, took a bowl of stew from the communal pot, made use of the shower and toilet, spent an hour meditating in the gym and working with her sand, and finally returned to their alcove clean, refreshed, and determined to erase the last two weeks from her system as soon as her other heart came back. Especially as they had more privacy than usual because most of everyone had vacated to distant corners of the prison, claiming home territories where former enemies wouldn't have to be in each other's faces all the time.

He returned whistling. There was a steady dripping sound forming a counterpoint, but he was whistling, loudly, just like a true bird. And as Croc well knew, Doflamingo only whistled under VERY rare circumstances.

But even more importantly- for right now, he was higher than a kite on the bloodlust, on the thrill of revenge, riding the wave of satisfaction he got from taking his time and doing everything he'd envisioned and more.

When he came into the room, he was covered in blood and leaving a trail of the stuff, grinning and whistling a seven-note streak of interest and pleasure.

The brunette was once again propped on the bed, leaning against the wall. This time she had the blanket drawn up to her collar bones, though her arms and shoulders were exposed... and bare. Her hair, which brushed her shoulder blades now, was drawn up into a loose topknot, and perched on her nose were her reading glasses, something she hated to admit needing, as she took in the contents of a book she'd borrowed from Robin regarding birth and warning signs and things to do with an infant immediately afterwards. She glanced up, then did a double take, color staining her scar.

"You're filthy." Her voice was more in awe then the words suggested.

His grin was sharp and all animal teeth, "I played so hard I couldn't help but make a mess."

She very calmly set the book and glasses to the side, and moved to stand the blanket dropping lower. "Dirty, dirty, boy."

Her eyes traced him from sunglasses to toes and back up again, unconsciously pulling her lip into her mouth to bite. Something that wasn't usually there glowed in the way she _looked_ at him. Hungry. And almost predatory. In spite of her addition, she slid to the edge of the bed, and let the covers fall away. Her hand reached out, fingers dipping into the blood where it was splashed across his chest, and she purred, maintaining eye contact.

He didn't look away- he was almost compelled not to. Proudly, he spread his legs a little further apart, and put both hands on his hips as he licked his lips, tasting blood.

"Horrifyingly dirty. But you're all clean," he hummed, drawing closer.

He invited her in without so much as a second thought.

"I have the feeling, Mr. Joker, I shan't be for much longer, shall I?" She purred again, drawing her hand through the liquid, tracing the contours of his chest and stomach, painting the dips and bulges of muscle in coppery red. A playful smile teased at the corners of her mouth. "And I do so enjoy getting my hands dirty with you."

He shucked his shirt without needing to break eye contact and grinned wildly. He crossed the space between them in two steps and shoved down his pants.

"No, not very long at all, I think. Not with you painting me like that and getting me hotter."

She followed the line she was tracing down its inevitable path, staining the blond curls pink, before running her hand the length of his eighteen inches. The smile erupted, dangerous and matching her eyes for hunger, and her voice curled around her words, husky and wanting.

"Am I now? Whyever would I do a thing like that?"

His back arched involuntarily and he hissed, but he was still grinning like he would never stop. "I suspect... because... y'know how I am after a good kill and... the predator in ya... wants a share of it."

"Rawr." She growled, closing her hand around him and reaching up on her tiptoes to capture his mouth.

If she'd had her hook, she'd have gotten him around the neck, but the best she could do was slide her mangled forearm up next to his ear, the ridges of her scar brushing along a place she knew would give him shivers with every touch.

The blond's back arched further, bringing him lower- closer to her- as he kissed her back with a feverish intensity, a high-tide need he couldn't moderate or resist, not when she was meeting him touch for touch and not when she abused that spot behind his ear that drove him nuts! Though he really would have preferred her hook… he'd look into getting it back later—

"Mmnnnnnhhh."

He moaned, hands finding her hips and pulling her in as his pants slithered down to his ankles and he kicked them aside for now. He didn't need them and they would only get between him and what he really wanted right this second.

He was mightily tempted to heft her up; it would make his lying down on the bed easier and he wouldn't have to stop kissing her. If she'd been male, he would have, but as a girl Croc was slightly smaller and that made picking her up not okay, which he remembered almost too late after his hands slid to the curve of her rear and firmed up flush against the muscle. He groped her lightly instead, concentrated on the mouth working his own open and also remembering to breathe.

Pulling back to pant, his hips rolled and ground against her, and he smiled. "So will you take me right where I stand, like last time, or do you think we could make it to the floor this round?"

"I have plans, Donny... Mmm... You just stand there." She bit at his jaw, then his neck, then his collar bone, and down, following the trail of blood like it would nourish her. "For now."

She sucked a hickey over his heart. Then licked a broad stripe to his nipple, bit around it gently, and kept going down. She traced the indentations of his ribs, and the rolling hills of his stomach, until she was down on one knee and grooming his happy trail like a cat, sucking the blood she'd spread there out of the sunshine fur around the base of his shaft. Something she'd never done before. Granted she'd never done any of this when she was female before, but that didn't seem to be stopping her. She let her other leg fall to the ground and it put her at just the right angle to nuzzle up under him lapping and sucking at the tender flesh of both parts of him, hand and stump braced on his thighs.

He hissed out a series of gradually darker-sounding curses in his native tongue, twitching harder the lower she went, and by the time she was kneeling he was unconsciously spreading his feet wider apart for her, and his hands had formed fists on either side of his hips as he tried to stay in place as told.

Between the sudden lack of air he was feeling and the pleasure she was sending screaming through him, he couldn't do much more except stay in place and breathe and maybe attempt to think whenever she paused.

Extremely pleased with his reaction she stopped, resting her cheek against his leg and running her hand down through the fur there too. "Breathe, baby. Don't want you passing out before the good stuff."

The breath he sucked in exploded in more of that native language and while there was no way to be sure of what he was saying, despite the harsh tang to the tongue it seemed very fervent and was probably every love confession he'd ever thought about telling her.

It was damn good he wasn't speaking a language she did know. The jumbled mess would just confuse the hell out of her. But one coherent thought did slip out-

_"Good stuff?!"_

She smiled, the kind that held secrets even Robin couldn't decipher, and leaned in to paint the underside of his cock with her tongue, using her hand to angle it down so it wouldn't jump out of her range, all the way to the tip.

There she kissed it, "Good stuff."

He cursed in three DIFFERENT languages this time and his dick bucked in her grip with the force it had tried to jerk and twitch with the sudden rush of blood and he had to lock his knees to prevent them buckling.

She kissed it again, smirking, and let him go to maneuver herself up onto the bed again. It wasn't that easy, with only one hand and a good fourteen extra pounds mostly centered on her belly, but she managed it, internally hoping that she hadn't wasted too much time being ungainly and awkward for him to have lost his high from her actually putting her mouth on his dick. She didn't dare actually suck on it, he was entirely _too_ sensitive for that, especially from her, but a couple of kisses and the knowledge that she'd had her mouth there she figured would be enough to jack his high up higher. Once situated, leaning back and legs spread wide, she beckoned to him, curling one finger and need in her eyes.

He would have helped her, except she hadn't told him he could move again, so he just watched her, anticipating and shifting his weight from foot to foot, until she said he could come to her. His high wasn't just higher than it had already been; it had shut down 99% of higher functions. But that finger gesture and he was there, slipping his wide hips between her knees so he could lean over and take her mouth again and try not to grind against her leg like an animal in heat.


End file.
